


Blink and You'll Miss It

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [30]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Demisexual Darcy Lewis, F/M, Triple Agent Rumlow, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 31,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: “Rumlow was trying to pick you up,” Jane hissed in a low voice.“What?” Darcy said. “Meeeee?” Then she lowered her voice. “That guy? No way,” she said, shaking her head.“This is just because you’re demisexual, you never think anyone wants in your pants,” Jane whispered. “But I saw him. I know moves.”“You do not know moves,” Darcy said. “I invited him to board games and yoga. He wants to meet people and he doesn’t like being single and working so mu--oh,” she said.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [30]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1484168
Comments: 485
Kudos: 675





	1. Miss-communication

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queen_Penthesileia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queen_Penthesileia/gifts).



> *I own nothing! 
> 
> Tumblr prompt from Queen_Penthesileia: "I've really enjoyed your fics where you write Darcy or Brock as ace, so I would love to see your take on a demisexual Darcy, who's being pursued by Brock with really shallow/showy seduction methods. She doesn't get interested in him until he starts opening up and she really gets to know him (and if it could happen after she learns he fosters Chihuahuas or knits pouches for kangaroos or something equally amazingly heartwarming, would be AWESOME)"

“I’m going to scoot over to the bar, Janeybug,” Darcy announced, in the middle of their first SHIELD bar hang out. She’d run out of rosé. “Refill your wine glass?” She held her hand out to take Jane’s empty stemware. Jane--in the middle of listening to someone from SHIELD R&D tell a long anecdote about data--passed the glass over with a mouthed thank you. “You’re welcome,” Darcy said cheerfully. She wiggled through the crowd, repeating “excuse me,” until she got to the bar top to flag down a bartender. “Thanks,” she said, putting a dollar in the tip jar when he took the glasses away. She was playing on her phone, looking up Captain America wafflemakers, when she felt someone slide onto the barstool next to hers, brushing against her sleeve. 

“Hey, Darcy,” a deep male voice drawled at her elbow. Darcy turned her head. A pair of brown eyes met hers. It was Commander Rumlow, that guy who ran STRIKE Alpha and had infiltrated HYDRA. Jane had heard from Thor who’d heard from Steve that he’d pretended to be a mercenary called Crossbones and had his burns healed by Helen Cho. He had a glass in his hand.

“Hi, Commander,” Darcy said. She tried to be nice to the HYDRA triple agents, because Natasha Romanoff had told them that some other SHIELD employees avoided guys like Rumlow. She wasn’t going to start her new job being like that--

“Brock,” he said, voice rumbling.

“Hmmm?” Darcy said, not following. She’d been thinking about how funny it was that Jane had finally consented to work for SHIELD. Rumlow tilted his head and looked at her enigmatically.

“My first name is Brock,” he said.

“Oh! Oh, sorry,” she said apologetically. “My brain just wanders sometimes. It tends to do that. I have to keep it on a leash,” she joked. 

“A leash, huh?” he said, smirking, as the bartender returned with her wines. “Mike, put those on my tab,” he said.

“No, you don’t need to--” Darcy began.

“You’re new,” he said. “Let me do this, huh?”

“Alrighty,” Darcy said, smiling. “How’s your workweek going? How many times did you save the world?”

“A few times,” he said, smirking.

“Steve always says he’s helpless without you,” Darcy said.

“He stole my line,” Rumlow said. He grinned at her. “Cap keeps us all busy.”

“Yeah?” Darcy said politely, sipping her wine. She imagined Steve  _ would _ be a busy person to work with--Steve was tirelessly committed when he cared about stuff. He’d asked Thor to do videos for his new nonpartisan emergency management website and video series. The whole purpose was to give people accurate info during crises. Darcy had explained the two-party system to Thor.

“I never do much but work,” Rumlow said, sounding a little wistful. “Work, work, and the gym. It’s tough to date,” he said, giving her a fractional smile. “But that’s how I stay fit.” Darcy nodded, thinking of Jane and Thor. She needed to schedule them a date night, put it on Jane’s calendar. “It’d be nice to meet somebody,” he added, raspy voice going all soft again. “I’m a relationship guy, I like having a girlfriend, you know? Someone nice to talk to, make plans with, that kinda thing. Even better if it was someone who understood my work, really...” he said, sipping his own drink. 

It was really sweet that he wanted a relationship, Darcy thought, studying him. He smiled at her. He had crinkles around his eyes that were charming, she realized. A tiny scar on one cheekbone. Then it dawned on her. “Hey,” she said. “I’ve got an idea!” She couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice.

“Yeah?” he said, leaning forward.

“Would you like to join my board games group?” Darcy asked. She’d been working on starting a new one in DC.

“What?” he said. His expression was surprised--he even blinked a little.

“I’m starting a group. Unless you like yoga better?” she asked. “There’s tons of people in my yoga class. You could meet so many people!” She smiled at him.

“Yeah,” Rumlow said, fidgeting with his straw. “So, uh, what do you do after yoga?” He looked at her quizzically.

“Oh my gosh, I’m usually so zonked, I just crash,” Darcy said. He frowned. “I’m so not a gym person. I’m kinda jealous of all you fit people. I just eat Cheetos and watch television,” she explained. The corners of his mouth went up a fraction.

“Cheetos aren’t food,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah, edible foodlike substance, whatever,” Darcy joked. “I still love them! The white cheddar ones are great, I’m telling you--” she insisted, as Rumlow visibly winced. She laughed at his pained face. He grinned back.

“Clearly, you need someone to feed you actual food,” he said, voice all gravelly again. 

“Phffft, actual food is highly overrated,” she said. “Haven’t you ever had a waffle fry? Or Fruity Pebbles cereal?”

“Oh God,” he said, rubbing his jaw with one hand. “I’m really worried about your diet--” he began, before someone called his name. He looked over his shoulder and sighed. “I gotta go,” he said. “Let’s table this for a future discussion, huh?”

“Sure,” Darcy said cheerfully. He paused for a moment, as if he was waiting for someone.

“Uh--” he began.

“Rumlow!” someone called.

“Shit,” he said, frowning.

“Oh, no,” Darcy said. “It’s totally okay. I’ve lived this long on Pop Tarts, it’s not an emergency. I’ll live!” When she smiled at him, he smiled back. “Just let me know about board games, okay?” she added. He looked at her for a second, shook his head, and disappeared into the back of the bar with a wry glance.

* * *

A moment later, Jane squeezed in next to Darcy. “Oh my God,” she said.

“What?” Darcy said, passing her the other wine glass.

“Rumlow was trying to pick you up,” Jane hissed in a low voice.

“What?” Darcy said. “Meeeee?” Then she lowered her voice. “That guy? No way,” she said, shaking her head. 

“This is just because you’re demisexual, you never think anyone wants in your pants,” Jane whispered. “But I saw him. I know moves.”

“You do not know moves,” Darcy said. “I invited him to board games and yoga. He wants to meet people and he doesn’t like being single and working so mu--oh shit,” she said.

“Oh my God,” Jane repeated. “It’s like you’re on a tape delay.” She dissolved into giggles as Darcy put her face in her hands.

“He probably thinks I’m so weird!” Darcy said, voice muffled. 


	2. Get A Clue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Why are you hiding in the lab storage closet?” Jane said, frowning at Darcy when she came to retrieve extra whiteboard markers. Darcy sighed.

“Do I have to tell you?” she asked Jane.

“I am your boss, so technically yes.”

“I’ve bought your underwear and dental floss when you were out of both,” Darcy grumbled. Jane crossed her arms.

“Spill,” the scientist said.

“Okay, fine. The wall by my desk is glass and Rumlow walks by every day after lunch, so I’m hiding in the closet,” Darcy said. 

“You’re in the closet because you’re scared of seeing Rumlow?” Jane said, grinning. 

“I’m not scared scared,” Darcy said. “I don’t want to see him laugh at me. I’ll be out in five minutes.” All morning, Darcy had been fearing that he would walk by, laugh, and talk about her with whoever he was with; she’d imagined several different agents. Those STRIKE guys all seemed intense--and probably judgy. 

“Okay,” Jane said slowly. “But you’re a grown adult, you know that, right?”

“Shut up,” Darcy said, shoving whiteboard markers at Jane, “I remember how you were with Thor!”

* * *

She had just shut the closet door when Darcy heard the lab’s main door open. “Hello,” Jane said. “Commander Rumlow.” Her voice was extra loud, presumably so Darcy could hear. Rumlow’s response was too low to distinguish. She heard Jane reply and then it sounded like he said something back. Jane. Him. Jane again. 

“What is he doing?” Darcy said in a whisper, leaning against the door to listen closer. She had her cheek pressed against the door crack when it opened unexpectedly and she lost her balance. “Ahhhh,” she said, without meaning to, as she landed on the floor. Her knees connected with the waxed floor with a painful thud---visible and audible to both people in the lab. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Rumlow said, moving over. He lifted her up before Darcy could respond.

“Uh, yeah,” she said, blushing wildly with embarrassment.

“You’re bleeding,” he said. 

“Dammit,” Darcy said, realizing she’d ruined the tights she was wearing with her dress. They were her favorites. Her knees were scraped and bleeding a little beneath the snagged fabric. 

“You got a first-aid kit?” Rumlow said. For a second, Darcy thought he was talking to her, but then she realized he was talking to Jane. 

“Yes,” Jane said, moving for it.

“C’mon, let’s get you into a chair,” Rumlow said, leading Darcy over to her desk. 

“Thank you,” she said, reaching for the first-aid kit in Jane’s hands when the scientist returned. To her surprise, Rumlow took it, ignoring Darcy’s movement. He rummaged around for band-aids and cotton squares.

“Maybe we can save your tights,” Jane said. “I know they were your favorites.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, trying not to cry or get more upset at Jane’s gentle tone. She felt so stupid. Rumlow was patting his pockets.

“I’ve got an anti-bac thing for the field that’s gentle,” he said, looking up at her. “These are your favorites?”

“Yeah,” she repeated.

“You wanna take ‘em off?” he said. He looked at Jane. “Can you walk her to the bathroom?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jane said. “Actually we can do this in the closet, right?”

“Okay,” Darcy said. They both helped her up. She and Jane walked carefully to the storage closet. Once the door had shut behind them, Darcy spoke. “Oh my God!” she said in the lowest whisper she could manage. “What is he doing here?”

“He wanted to talk to you about board games?” Jane said tentatively. “I didn’t get it.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, sitting down on several cardboard boxes of supplies to pry off her boots and the bloodied tights. “That’s nice of him.” She swallowed. “I guess?” She couldn’t figure out why, unless he wanted to join her group?

“Uh-huh,” Jane said, looking pleased.

Rumlow was still waiting when they came back out. Darcy felt acutely conscious of the paleness of her legs. She never tanned. That was why she wore tights, she thought sadly. So no one would see how her ghost-pale legs looked under workplace lighting. Rumlow was grimacing slightly. “You’re bleeding more,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said, sitting down. They almost knocked heads when she leaned forward to peer at her knees. “Oh, sorry.” She hadn’t expected him to drop down in front of her like that. 

“S’okay,” he said. “I got it.” He carefully cleaned her knees. It was excruciating to sit there in silence as he proceeded to dab her scrapes with the tube of stuff from his jacket pocket, a look of concentration on his face. All the regular noises of the room--the ticking wall clock, the hum of laptops, a dinging notification from her phone--seemed unbearably loud. 

“You wanted to talk to me about board games?” Darcy got out, feeling terribly uncool.

“Yeah,” he said, still studying her knees like a textbook. “I think that should do it.” He looked up at her. “You like board games, huh? Which ones?”

“Um,” Darcy said. For one long moment, she couldn’t think of a single game. Not one. His eyes had tiny flecks of green in them and she had never seen a board game in her entire life. She was looking directly into his eyes when she finally remembered. “I-I--Clue! I like Clue!” 

“The one with the movie?” he said. “With, uh, that guy from, uh--what’s it called?”

“Yes, yes,” Darcy said. “Tim Curry!” Her voice was squeaky. She caught Jane grinning across the room.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Rumlow said. “Clue, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, nodding vigorously. “Did you want to join the group?”

“Huh?” he said, looking up from where he was putting band aids on her knees gently.

“My board games group? Did you want to join?” Darcy said. He made to speak, then stopped. His expression was deeply, deeply reluctant. Like he was having trouble getting the words out. It was an obvious no. 

“Well, uh,” he said. “I travel so much, I’m not good at scheduled stuff like that. Always, uh, miss things,” he explained haltingly.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “That’s okay.” He nodded.

“Can two people play Clue?” he asked, surprising her.

“Um, some people try? But it’s really better with three to six people,” she said. “Because you need more players to rule out the murderer?” 

“Oh,” he said. There was a lull in the conversation as he put on a second band aid. Movement behind his head caught Darcy’s attention. Jane was waving her arms. 

“Darce,” she said slowly, “don’t you have a two-player board game?” Rumlow looked at Jane and back at Darcy.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, trying to think of one. “Uhhhh….I’ve got one, I’m sure.”

“You’ll have to teach me to play sometime,” Rumlow said. 

“I’ll look tonight and email you,” Darcy said. 

“You free tonight?” he asked.

“Um, yeah?” Darcy said doubtfully, looking up at Jane. “You don’t have work for me to do, do you?”

“Of course not!” Jane said brightly. “You can play board games.”

“Well, uh,” Darcy said awkwardly, “I’ve got lots of board games at home, if you’d like to come over?”

“Yeah,” he said, giving her an unreadable smile. “I’d like that.” Behind him, Jane rolled her eyes.

* * *

He left after Darcy gave him the address for their apartment. “Why are you making that face?” she asked Jane.

“Because you were supposed to go to his place,” Jane said, shaking her head. “He’s, like, totally signaling an interest. He probably wanted to make you a fancy dinner.”

“Are you sure?” Darcy said doubtfully. She had doubts. Serious ones. It seemed entirely unlikely that bandaging someone’s skinned knees would make you want to date them. Especially him. He was a STRIKE guy! And he’d looked so grim when she asked if he wanted to join her group? Obviously, Jane was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone's hanging in there and you're all doing well!


	3. Obviously Incompatible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy had gathered several board games in preparation for Rumlow’s arrival. “You should have food,” Jane announced. “Or order food? I’m going to the library.”

“Yeah, of course,” Darcy said. She always had snacks on game nights. She was going to make popcorn. “You’re leaving?” she said, surprised. Jane had been giving her hints and instructions all afternoon. Darcy felt like she was getting a little bossypants. She’d vetoed putting on something cuter when Jane suggested that she change clothes.

“Yes!” Jane said. She grabbed her bag. “I’ll be out late, okay?”

“Okay,” Darcy said, thinking _okay, lecturing session over._

“And treat this like a date!” Jane said.

“That rhymed!” Darcy yelled, as the door closed. She sighed. Then she wandered into the kitchen. She’d put beer in the fridge. “Treat this like a date,” Darcy muttered to herself. “Which is stupid. Dating is stupid.” It was so irritating. She was wildly, irrationally grumpy at Jane’s advice. Also, she really didn’t understand the appeal of dating. She liked spending time with people, doing things, but the whole notion of dating left her feeling simultaneously stressed and fatigued. Putting on more revealing, tighter clothes than she felt comfortable in (a friend had once called them “temperature independent” dresses), trying to gauge how the date was going, worrying about walking in heels or whether she had food in her teeth...it was a lot. At one point, she’d thought she was lucky to meet Ian in London during the Dark Elves thing, without all of that. She’d never considered herself the kind of person who could pull off being the socially necessary amount of sexy, somehow. That was too much sexy. She was just regular Darcy all the time. When she tried to follow advice like Jane’s, it felt phony and unconvincing. Or worse. Worse was feeling vaguely dumpy and more awkward in the fancy clothes, as if they highlighted the softness of her stomach and her tendency to sweat, frizz, and trip. Rumlow had already seen her trip, of course. “Ugh!” Darcy said out loud, giving in to pressure to do something to look better. She stomped to her bedroom and opened the closet. She wouldn’t wear a dress. That was too obvious. But she could change from the sweatshirt she’d put on when they got home. Leave the comfy leggings. That would seem normal, wouldn’t it? She thumbed through the rack of shirts, looking for a particular color. “Yes!” she said, finding the red top that was one of her favorites. It had a pattern of little white diamonds and she thought it made her look cute. Darcy had the shirt wedged over one bra cup when the doorbell rang. “Shit!” she said, pulling. She was already sweating. “Who is it?” she called as she approached the door.

“It’s me,” Rumlow said. She swung the door open, yanking the hem of her shirt a little when she realized it was tucked in her leggings.

“Good, I was worried you might be a murderer--” she was saying, when she looked up. He was holding something. “Oh,” Darcy said. “Roses. And wine.”

“They, uh, match your shirt?” he said, smiling.

“The flowers are beautiful,” Darcy said slowly. “Did you want to come in?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I, uh, got us a card game, too.” 

“Oh,” Darcy said, more excited, “what game?”

“It’s called, uh, I’m Boring Because?” he said. Darcy hadn’t heard of it before. 

“Oh, cool, let’s play it,” she told him. “I’ll get something for the flowers.”

“How are your knees?” he asked.

“They’re good,” she said, getting her vase. He stood close to her as they put the roses in the water. She tried to stay calm as she got snacks and he opened the wine. They sat on the couch and she looked at him, trying to think of what to say. “Do you need scissors?” she asked. He’d sat a deck of cards and a bag of M&Ms on the table.

“Hmmm?” he said.

“To open the cards?” 

“Nah,” he said, smirking. He pulled a scary-looking knife out of his boot. “I got this.”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. “That’s a...large knife.” When he grinned at her, she realized she’d inadvertently made it dirty or something. Shit. She could tell from his face. “Ummm,” Darcy said. “What are the rules of this game?”

“You, uh, wager something, like M&Ms,” he said.

“I like M&Ms,” Darcy said, smiling.

“I thought so,” he said, opening that bag. He poured two little piles. “We each get some. You read out an activity on the cards--”

“Activity?” she asked.

“Something like, ‘I’m Boring Because I Haven’t Climbed Everest’ and the person who has actually done that gives up one of their M&Ms,” he explained. “The person who has done the least wins.”

“Oh, neat,” Darcy said. She laughed. “I have a shot at winning!”

“Oh, yeah?” he said, shuffling the card deck.

“I’ve definitely never climbed a mountain,” she told him. She was actually excited to play, she thought, smiling at Rumlow. “You go first.”

“All right,” he said, handing Darcy her hand. He cleared his throat. “I’m Boring Because I’ve Never Been Skydiving...Naked,” he read aloud. “Shit,” he said, “that’s practically my job.” He grinned and slid her an M&M. “You win,” he said. Darcy laughed. 

“Did you add the naked?” Darcy said. She thought he was joking. 

“No, that’s on mine, I swear,” he said. “It was a mission emergency. I had about thirty percent of my clothes,” he said. He was obviously kidding, Darcy thought. She looked at her first card--and felt a swell of nervous anxiety. She thumbed through her hand.

“I’m Boring Because I’ve Never Had A Threesome,” she read aloud slowly. It was a sex card game. All her cards were about sex. She was going to win this game, she realized, uncertain of how to feel. 

“Whoops,” he said, sliding over an M&M. Darcy looked at the M&M at the edge of her pile. “I should probably slide over more of these,” he joked. _Thunk-thunk-thunk._ Several candies landed in her pile. Darcy didn’t know how to respond.

“Oh, okay,” she said.

“You haven’t?” he said. “Ever?”

“No,” she said. “Strictly a one-partner person,” she said quietly. When she glanced up, he was smiling.

“We’re learning all kinds of things about each other, huh?” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, trying to quash the weird flutter in her stomach. She didn’t usually talk about sex with people she didn’t know well. And this was the absolute worst context to confide that she was demisexual. It would make her look like a prude. That was what people tended to assume. That she was uptight. “Your turn?” she said, huffing out a little air to relax.

“I’m Boring Because I’ve Never Had Sex In An Elevator,” Rumlow said, reading his card. “Shit. Got me again.” He looked at Darcy. “You?” he said.

“Definitely not,” she said, as several M&Ms migrated to her side of the coffee table. “That many times in one elevator?” she said--and then wondered if she was crossing a line. It was difficult for her to tell sometimes. He laughed. 

“It was more than one elevator,” he said, licking his lips and grinning. “There was this SHIELD assignment in Macao--”

“Macao?” she repeated. He nodded. 

“I was working undercover in this casino with a fu--friend once,” he said. “Coworker. We were hooking up.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. He’d almost said fuckbuddy. He was that kind of guy. It wasn’t surprising, really, but she wasn’t the kind of person that casual sex enthusiasts really got along with romantically, she thought, repressing a sigh. 

“The place had mirrored elevators,” he said, “so, you know…”

“Once you’ve seen a mirrored elevator,” Darcy said, feeling herself deflate a little more. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I knew we had to.” He smirked again. “My love life’s, uh, colorful.”

“Much more colorful than mine,” Darcy said, trying for breezy and cool, but feeling oddly brittle. She couldn’t figure out why this game made her feel like she was breakable. Fragile.

“Well, you know,” he said, “you can always, uh, learn new things. Never too late.” When she raised her eyebrows, he winked at her. She won all the M&Ms. “You’re not cheating, are you?” he said, voice teasing. “I feel like you’re messing with me.”

“You caught me,” Darcy joked awkwardly. “I’m a terrible cheat and a secret swinger.” He laughed.

“Swinger?” Rumlow said.

“Oh, yeah, I have a bunch of paisley caftans and that cocaine song from the seventies on repeat,” she said. That made him laugh more.

“Caftans,” he said, laughing so hard that he actually snorted. “Fuck, I need wine,” he said, reaching for his glass. He drank a sip and then looked at her with a smile. “You’re funny as hell, you know that,” Rumlow told her.

“I was serious,” she deadpanned. He laughed again. As his laughter died, he smirked around his wine glass, then his expression went unreadable. “What is it?” she asked.

“I, uh,” he said, clearing his throat and scratching his jaw. “I should tell you, I’m bisexual. Does that bother you?”

“Oh,” Darcy said, “um, no?” There was a lull in the conversation. She didn’t know how to move to something that felt safer and less fraught.

“You seem bothered,” he said quietly.

“You’ve just given me a lot of information about your sex life tonight!” Darcy said. “I’m--I don’t usually know this much until I know someone pretty well,” she said awkwardly. He was watching her carefully. “I mean, after we’re good friends for other reasons,” she added.

“Other reasons?” he said, voice less relaxed than it was before.

“Shared interests, hobbies, long-time friends or coworkers,” she said. “I don’t usually have sex with somebody until I’ve known them for, um, months,” she said. “Normally, I’d know your favorite coffee order or the books you read before we talked about elevator sex--” she began, trying for lightness.

“Yeah,” he said. He rubbed his neck. 

“So,” Darcy said, “is there anything else you like to do?” He gave her a tiny smile, then sighed. “What is it?” she asked.

“I’ve made you uncomfortable--”

“No,” Darcy lied, “not really.”

“I think I should go,” he said quietly. He stood up. 

“Okay,” Darcy said anxiously. “Let me give you some of these?” She gestured to the candy.

“No, that’s okay,” he said. “I don’t eat chocolate.” He smiled slowly. “It’s about the only thing I don’t do, but you know that now.”

* * *

“How did it go?” Jane asked, coming in with an armload of books balanced awkwardly in her arms. “Darce?” she called over the music. Darcy was drinking wine on the couch, under a blanket. Wallowing and eating her poorly-won M&Ms.

“Awful!” she yelled, turning down Taylor Swift. One of Jane’s books hit the ground with a thud.

“Shit! Why?” Jane said, setting her things down on the dining table.

“He brought a dirty card game,” Darcy explained. “Those are my winnings.”

“You won?” Jane said, getting the book off the floor.

“Shut up. The more boring person wins,” she said.

“Oh,” Jane said. 

“So, obviously, I won in a landslide. And he’s bisexual,” Darcy said. “He told me and I didn’t know how to respond after all that. I probably handled it badly, because I asked him about other interests and he left.”

“Yeah,” Jane said.

“What do you mean, yeah?” Darcy said, tossing an M&M at her. It landed on the table. “Rude!”

“I know you’re not prejudiced,” Jane said, grabbing the M&M off the surface. “You just freeze up whenever people talk about sex.”

“I choked,” Darcy said, eating an M&M. "And now he probably thinks I'm just a bigot."

“It’s only because you’re afraid people will realize you haven’t done--” Jane peered at the coffee table and then made a surprised sound. “That,” she said. 

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “We played that card. Ask me about Brock Rumlow and butt stuff, Janey. I can tell you. In detail.”

“Oh my God,” Jane said, trying to hide her laughter, “I can imagine your face!”

“Yup,” Darcy said. She sighed. “I’m never going to be a butt stuff person. Or an elevator sex person.”

“Elevator sex?” Jane said.

“In a beautiful casino in Macao,” Darcy said. “I googled. It’s the fourth-tallest building in the world.” She blew a raspberry. “I bet those mirrors were nice.”

“What is it?” Jane said, frowning. “Mirrors?” 

“I’m just--I dunno,” Darcy said. “I dunno.”

“Well, you’re obviously incompatible, right?” Jane said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I’m Taylor Swift and he’s like, the male Angelina Jolie.” Jane snorted. “He thought I was funny, too,” she told Jane. “Or he did. I feel like a shitty person.”

“Honey,” Jane said. “You cannot feel guilty about the fact that he’s more talkative about sex than you and has done different things.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “He brought me roses,” Darcy said. “Aren’t those beautiful?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops, a bad date


	4. Snack Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing wrong,” Brock said, shaking his head. “I brought flowers,” he added, “nice ones.” He lifted his drink to his lips. He’d been telling Rollins about his difficulties with Darcy as the two of them sat at his favorite bar. He liked her. But they weren’t connecting. It was like everything was slightly off. 

“You took that fucking card game on a date, for a start,” Jack Rollins told him wryly. “What in bloody hell were you thinking, mate?”

“It’s a good at parties,” Brock complained. “Even Cap laughs. And she’s funny. I thought we’d have fun. She beat the shit out of me, though. Won all the candy.”

“Did you actually play the thing?” Jack asked, voice turning horrified. Brock cut his eyes at the Australian, looking sheepish. “Oh for Christ’s sake,” Jack said. “You didn’t tell her the Macao story, did you? I told you not--”

“I didn’t tell her it was you,” Brock said quietly. “I know how you feel about privacy and shit.”

“How I feel about privacy,” Jack repeated mockingly. He lowered his voice. “The last thing I need is for some moron from Legal to tell everyone how I used to fuck you elevators when my husband’s in earshot.”

“It’s not like Gavin doesn’t know we used to be together--” Brock said.

“Knowing that and overhearing somebody tell that story as a bloody joke are two different things,” Jack said.

“Sorry,” Brock said flatly. “I embarrass you, too, huh?” There was a moment of silence. Rollins huffed out a sound.

“You don’t embarrass me, you old bastard,” Jack said. “Sometimes I don’t know how you talked me into the bloody stupid things we did.” 

“Thanks, Jack,” Brock said sarcastically. He sighed. “She looked nervous when I told her I was bisexual.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jack said. “You did all that over one card game?”

“Sure,” Brock said, rubbing his temple. His head ached. It sounded idiotic like that. Like he’d fucked up the whole date.

“Uh-huh,” Jack said. “You could slow it down a bit, mate.” 

“Why should I hide who I am?” Brock said. “I wanted to get it all out there. You think I should lie?”

“I’m not saying that,” Jack said.

“Well, what are you saying then?” Brock said. 

“Jesus--no, what are you always saying? You want a relationship, somebody to be with, but your relationships never last?” Jack said. Brock sighed and rubbed his face. 

“Yeah,” he said. Jack nodded. 

“And you’re bloody lonely,” Jack added. There was a long pause. “We’ve wowed him into silence at last,” he mused out loud. Brock tapped his fingers on the bar counter.

“We work too much,” Brock said. “How am I supposed to meet somebody good when I can’t tell ‘em about work, either?” Jack snorted in amusement and Brock looked at him sharply. “What’s the fuck's that mean?” he asked, ordering another drink. His glass was empty.

“You jump into bed with people, you’ve got no idea who they are, how many times has it been somebody as mad as a cut snake?” Jack pointed out. 

“Not that many times,” Brock insisted. “I’ve dated nice people.”

“Sure. None of them were lunatics, oh no,” Jack said. “That’s why you never called me to pick you up because that Renee threw your clothes out the window or that bloke, what was his name--”

“A few times, all right?” he said. “Everybody goes on a few bad dates.” When Jack scoffed, Rumlow continued, “you talking about yourself now? You and your dumbass fly fishing, Rachel Maddow?”

“Fuck you, yobbo,” Jack said. They’d ended their fling because they had no hobbies in common. Only work. Jack liked being outdoors, hiking and fishing. Quiet. The feeling of nature. Brock complained endlessly about bugs, said the quiet made him insane, and that he was bored as hell. Jack could see him on a hiking trail, slapping at mosquitos, and swearing vividly. 

“Australian asshole,” Brock said, when Jack grinned at the memory.

“You wake up with nothing to say to one another, that’s what happens to you and your dates,” Jack said. “You bloody idiot.” 

“So, this is my fault?” Brock asked. “Because I jump into bed with people?”

“Why not get to know her first, huh?” Jack suggested. “No rushing into sex?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Brock wondered aloud. “Shit.” His expression was so flummoxed, Jack started to laugh. 

“You can’t hack it, mate,” he said, between honking laughs. "You can't."

“Don’t fucking laugh at me, I could,” Brock said, staring at his glass. “I could do that.”

“Uh-huh,” Jack said, still laughing. “My arse, mate.” 

“I just don’t want to,” Brock said, turning stubborn. “I like sex. What’s wrong with that?” Wordlessly, Jack nodded; he was laughing so hard, he had to wipe the tears off his his face. “Shut the fuck up,” Brock said grimly. “It’s not that goddamn funny.” 

“You could try spending time with her. You like the woman, right?” Jack asked.

“Yeah,” Brock said slowly. “There’s something about her. I, uh, I don’t know. It’s something.”

  
  


* * *

“How are you?” Jane said softly. Darcy looked up from across the lab. She could tell Jane was trying to discuss Darcy’s bad date with sensitivity. Jane struggled with being sensitive enough. 

“I’m fine,” Darcy said. “My glasses are coming in the mail this afternoon, so I’m excited about that.” Now that she and Jane had good salaries, she’d taken a risk and ordered some fun glasses from an online retailer. Sparkly cornered, colorful cat-eyes. 

“Oh, good,” Jane said. “You love glasses.”

“I do love glasses,” Darcy said. Contacts were good, but glasses were fun. She reminded herself that she liked a lot of things. And she was happy, most of the time. She enjoyed working for Jane, she had healthcare now, things were going well. There were plenty of things to be excited about in her future. Weren’t there? She sighed.

“What is it?” Jane said. Drat, Darcy thought, usually Jane didn’t catch that. 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m going to see if the mail is here yet,” Darcy said, stubbornly deciding to be optimistic. “And then I’m getting us snacks. I’m a little hungry.”

“Okay,” Jane said. 

* * *

Darcy went down to the SHIELD mailroom. Her glasses were there, perfectly glittering at the corners and adjusted for how blind she was. She swapped them with her current pair and sent Jane a selfie and a note that she was headed out to the parking deck. _Glasses present and snack run commenced,_ she typed. _Planning a dance party when I get back._ That always helped her mood. She was walking through the slightly-creepy deck when someone called her name. “Darcy!”

“Oh, hi,” she said, when Rumlow emerged from the side of an SUV.

“Hey,” he said. He smiled at her. It was warm out. He was wearing tactical pants and one of those agency t-shirts that someone in SHIELD seemed to buy in the smallest possible size for Steve. “How, uh, are you?” he asked. It was hard to read his expression.

“I’m good. Going on a snack run,” she said, gesturing towards her car with her keys. “I keep food in the lab, usually. So, I need to stock our snack cabinet.” She felt awkward and waved her arms around again. Like a goober. 

“Yeah,” he said. There was another of those stressful pauses. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I got new glasses. They came in the mail today.”

“They’re, uh, nice,” he said. “The, uh, red and glitter.” Darcy thanked him and looked over his shoulder, waiting for him to leave. It was impossible not to let her eyes drift to his. He smiled. “You want, uh, company?” he offered. 

“You want to go with me to buy Cheetos?” she asked, confused. 

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll drive. Traffic’s a nightmare this time of day and you don’t have combat training.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, smiling and laughing awkwardly at his joke. She followed him to his SUV. “I did ace London driving.” The thought had bubbled up.

“Yeah?” he said, opening the passenger side door for her. He looked weird, just standing there, holding it open. 

“Sure,” Darcy said. “The dents in Jane’s mom’s Volvo weren’t that noticeable.” He laughed, and to her surprise, offered to help her climb into the SUV. “Thank you,” she said, reaching for the interior door handle to help hoist herself up. He braced her elbow and the small of her back.

“Just plant your first foot real well,” Rumlow said.

“Easy for the tall to say,” she said, wobbling slightly backwards as she tried to climb in.

“I gotcha,” he said, putting both hands around her waist and just lifting her in like it was nothing. “You okay?” he asked, when she started to giggle. It tickled.

“You Justin Bieber’d me!” she said. “Usually, only Thor does that,” she told him, sitting down. It was good to talk about anything but the awful date. 

“Justin Bieber?” he said, looking confused.

“Oh, I have to show you. There’s this picture of the Beebs getting into a scuffle with paparazzi and his bodyguard just lifts him up like a baby into his SUV,” Darcy said, smiling. She tapped on her phone. “I’ll find it,” she told him, before he got into the driver’s seat. He was fiddling with his seatbelt when she located the image. “See?” Darcy said. “It’s sort of an inside joke, since Jane and I are so short,” she said, grinning. He peered at her screen, then smirked. “Doesn’t he look exactly like a baby?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Rumlow said, smirking. “But doesn’t that make you the baby?”

“Damn,” Darcy said, looking into his eyes for a second too long. “A flaw in my joke!”

“Only if you mind being lifted, really,” Rumlow said. They smiled at each other. “Where are we going?” he asked quietly.

“Where’s the nearest grocery store?” Darcy asked, looking out of the windshield. She shifted in her seat.

They were walking down the candy aisle--Darcy was gleefully adding discounted seasonal candy to their cart--when Rumlow cleared his throat. “I, uh, feel like I should apologize for the other night?” he said tentatively. “I maybe misjudged the mood?”

“Maybe,” Darcy said. “Definitely maybe.” She looked at him. He swallowed nervously. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to, uh, tell you too much. At one time.” 

“Thank you,” she said, color rising in her cheeks. “I appreciate that.” 

“Well, uh, I was hoping we could still see each other,” he said. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said, nodding. “I mean, we’re buying candy together.”

“We’re buying candy together,” Rumlow said, nodding. His face was so ambiguous, it did a weird thing to her. It happened sometimes when she was nervous or uncertain: Darcy giggled. “Are you laughing at me?” he said, looking stunned. She clapped a hand over her mouth. He looked at her for a minute, then cracked a smile. She wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Well,” she said, once she’d gotten control a tiny bit and felt safe lowering her hand, “I can laugh or I can cry. We’re standing in a candy aisle and I know exactly how you feel”--she lowered her voice-- “about sex in public places.” How he felt was enthusiastic. That was his general attitude, enthusiasm shading into recklessness, Darcy had learned over cards. She raised her eyes from his clavicle to his face. “And parking lots and cars, actually--”

“Yeah. So?” he said. His lips poked out. He was actually pouting, she realized. She had to repress another smile.

“I, um, how I am supposed to respond to all that?” she said, still holding a bag of mini Twix. “Knowing that you’ve been arrested for indecency in two countries and I’m, well, me?”

“What’s that mean?” Rumlow said. “And it was just the one country.” A woman with a baby in a carrier walked by behind him.

“We’ll talk in the car,” Darcy said, with a burst of decisiveness. “Not in front of the lady and the baby. We’ll get chips and then we’ll talk,” she told him. They walked to that aisle.

“Hold on, I can’t let this go,” Rumlow said. “Am I so bad?” 

“No, no, I just--I have something to say in the car,” she said.

“If you don’t want to see me, I get it,” Rumlow said. “You can just say it. Get it out in the open.” They were standing next to an endcap display of Frosted Flakes.

“No,” Darcy began, then shut her mouth abruptly at his expression. He looked hurt, actually. It was sad. “Listen,” she whispered. “It’s me.”

“Sure it is,” he said sarcastically. 

“Brock,” she said, standing nervously on her tip toes, “it’s me. Really. I’m, uh, demisexual?”

“You’re what?” he said. She waved her arms nervously to shush him.

“It means I need to feel connected to somebody to actually want to sleep with them, okay? Emotionally-connected and stuff,” she explained in a low voice. “It takes me time to be interested. In sex.”

“Oh,” he said. 

“It’s a technical term,” she added. “But I don’t tell people, because they think I’m odd or whatever.”

“Just sounds traditional to me,” Rumlow told her, shrugging. “Old-fashioned. So, you’re not put off by my, uh, experience?” 

“No,” Darcy said. “But you’re still not getting it.”

“What am I not getting?”

“We’ll talk in the car,” she said. “Jane likes salt and vinegar.”

“That’s disgusting,” he said, curling his nose. That made her laugh. “Are you laughing at me again?” he complained.

“Your nose scrunch is cute,” she said. “I like it.”

“Oh,” he said. “That’s okay.”

He asked again when they got in the SUV. “What am I not getting?” Rumlow asked. Darcy was having a mini Twix. She’d offered him one, but he’d declined.

“Mmmfph,” she said, waving and chewing. “These are chewy. No, stay parked. Um,” she said, “the thing is, I don’t have much of a libido unless I like somebody,” she confessed. “Otherwise, I don’t even think that much about sex.”

“Really?” Rumlow said. He looked astonished. “You?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Darcy said, unwrapping another Twix. Shoppers were steering their carts around the parking lot. "Yoooouuu?" she repeated, drawling it out.

“I didn't say it like that. You’re gorgeous,” he said, using that deep voice he’d used in the bar. “So, I assumed--”

“I don’t follow?” Darcy asked. “I’m gorgeous, so you assumed what, exactly?”

“There’d be a lot of interest and experience,” he said, smirking gently. “And a healthy sense of, uh, play?” He’d tried to chose his words carefully, she could tell. She shook her head. He scrunched his nose again, looking baffled.

“Nope,” Darcy said. “I hardly ever think about it. I only really want to have sex when I’m dating somebody. Just three ex-boyfriends.”

“That’s it?” he said.

“Don’t say _that’s it_ in that voice!” Darcy said, practically spitting chocolate at him when she laughed. “Not everybody’s been arrested for balcony sex.”

“I wasn’t arrested, I was cited,” he said, grinning. “It was just a small fine.”

“Why are you smiling?” she said.

“You ever been with somebody really fun?” Rumlow asked.

“Oh my God, you’re that guy, aren’t you?” she said. “This is why I don’t wear my demi button on my jacket anymore, there are all these guys on the internet who think you need to ‘get laid’ or whatever,” she said, doing air quotes. 

“They make buttons?” he said. 

“I got it on Etsy,” Darcy said. “That’s your takeaway?”

“You really don’t want to have sex with me?” Rumlow said. “Really?”

“I don’t even know you, not really. Not the stuff that’s important, like whether or not we’d actually like spending time together,” Darcy said. “Sex is just a tiny fraction of anyone’s life. People spend more time sitting in traffic or making dinner--” she added, when he made a sound. 

“What?” Rumlow said. “Not in my experience.”

“Seriously?” Darcy said. He grinned.

“I’ve had sex in traffic and while making dinner,” he said. 

“In traffic?” Darcy said.

“Yeah,” he said. “It was an interstate traffic jam. Bumper to bumper. But if you use the emergency brake and put the seat back, you’ve got room to--”

“Oh my God,” Darcy said, really losing it. She giggled into her Twix bag. 

“So, I should take you to dinner, huh?” Rumlow asked. He smirked. “Get started figuring out if you can stand me for long enough to decide to, uh, let me see your button?”

“My button,” Darcy said. “I can’t decide if that’s ridiculous or wonderful.”

“Say wonderful,” he said. 

“Wonderful,” she repeated dryly. He reached across the front seat and snagged a Twix.

“I thought you didn’t eat chocolate!” Darcy said.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever met who’s turned me down,” he complained. “I’m in shock.” He cranked the SUV. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, feeling weirdly amused. “You poor sad, handsome man.”

“Thank you,” he said. “You think I’m handsome?”

“I’m demi, I’m not blind. I can see when people are cute,” Darcy grumbled.

“Where do you want to go to dinner?” he said, with a tiny smile.

“When?” she said. “Tonight?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Tonight.” He looked at her. “Why wait? Unless you’re busy?”

“I’m never busy,” she admitted. But she vetoed the fancy restaurant that he suggested as they arrived back at work. “No,” she said. “Why don’t you come over and have pizza with me and Jane?” she asked. 

“What, just hang out on the couch?” he said, frowning.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, reaching for her grocery bags. “We’ll just have a normal night.” She couldn’t figure out why he looked bugged out. “Why not?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Okay. Pizza.” 

  
  
  



	5. The Fabulous Misses Lewis & Foster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! Minor mentions of the new Miss Fisher movie, but no real spoilers.

“What do you want on your pizza?” Jane asked Brock. He was sitting with Darcy on their couch. He'd showed up promptly for their date, carrying beer, wine white, and chocolate. Jane had waggled her eyebrows when his back was turned. Brock did look good in jeans, Darcy could admit. He had a great body: gorgeous shoulders and arms, a lean waist, even a cute butt. She could see why everyone else probably wanted to jump his bones. She had no idea how this relationship was going to work, though. Maybe she should suggest that they just be friends first?

“Meat, no cheese,” he said, tilting his head back so he could see Jane standing behind him at the edge of the kitchen. That gave Darcy a great view of his neck. It was a good neck.

“No cheese?” Darcy said, horrified.

“I don’t eat cheese,” he said. Then he grinned at her, pointing with his beer. “No judgment!” he said.

“I’m not judging!” Darcy said, feeling herself grin at him. 

“You’re judging a little,” he said. “Which is slightly hypocritical of you. I’m not a cheese guy, okay?”

“Nuh-uh,” Darcy said, shaking her head.

“I saw your face. Jane, is she a cheese hypocrite?” he called back.

“What?” Jane said, sticking her head out of the kitchen. “Pizza will be here in thirty. What’d I miss?”

“He’s comparing my demisexuality to his cheese preferences,” Darcy said.

“Hmmm,” Jane said, smiling in a way that made Darcy realize she was going to be a smartass. “You do really enjoy cheese. All the cheese. I could see it.”

“See what?” Brock said.

“Oh, no,” Darcy said simultaneously.

“Cheese is her sex,” Jane said. “So, she’s eaten as much cheese as you’ve had sex.”

“What?” Brock said.

“She saw the card game,” Darcy explained. “Sorry.”

“Oh yeah?” Brock said, a fraction more alert. He smirked. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“She loves extra sharp cheddar, gruyère, and goat cheese. All those stinky blue ones. And asiago and parmesan--” Jane began, listing out cheeses. “Any cheese, she’ll try it.”

“Shut up,” Darcy grumbled.

“Any cheese, huh?” Brock said.

“I just like cheese,” Darcy said, shrugging. 

“Lots of people do. What movie are we watching?” Brock asked, smiling widely at her.

“Remember that champagne cheddar that you were so obsessed with that you got in a funk when you found out it was seasonal and sold out?” Jane said wickedly. “She was so disappointed.” 

“We’re watching the new _Miss Fisher_ movie,” Darcy said, ignoring Jane. Jane wandered into the kitchen, still listing cheeses.

“Brie with the terrible rind---”

“I cut your rinds off!” Darcy said defensively.

“Champagne cheddar?” Brock said. “That’s a thing?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“Huh,” he said.

* * *

“So, she’s like a female James Bond,” Darcy explained, before they started the Miss Fisher movie. They were waiting on pizza. “She solves crimes, has an incredible wardrobe, and tons of boyfriends--” she said, gesturing with her wine glass.

“She’s in love with Inspector Robinson,” Jane added. “But they never get together.”

“It took them three seasons to get to one kiss,” Darcy added. “Just one! It’s totally a slow burn romance.”

“So you love this, huh?” Brock said in a teasing voice.

“I--I--pffht,” Darcy sputtered; Jane cackled. “Why--why are _you_ laughing?” she asked Jane. “I make your coffee!”

“It was the way he said it,” Jane said. “I never even thought about that.” 

“My love for this show is totally different,” Darcy said. She’d cheered during the third season kiss; it was obvious to her that neither Phryne Fisher nor Jack Robinson were demisexual, just not using their words. “They’re separate issues.”

“Okay,” Brock said.

“I’m not worried she’ll poison my coffee,” Jane said glibly.

“Only because we drink out of the same pot!” Darcy shot back. Brock laughed. 

“Oh, did I tell you the pearl clutching thing?” Jane said. “Susan from R&D sent me a reddit thing.”

“No, what reddit thing?” Darcy asked.

“This woman bought pearl necklaces from the craft store so she could dramatically clutch hers while she watched _Downton Abbey,”_ Jane said. “It made me think of you.”

“Oooooooh,” Darcy said. “I’m making a note.” She picked up her phone. “You want one, too, right?”

“Of course,” Jane said.

“You’re going to clutch your pearls when you watch TV?” Brock said slowly.

“Yes!” Darcy said. “And possibly CNN.” He laughed. 

He seemed more amused by their antics than embarrassed. Darcy had been half-afraid he’d think she and Jane were silly, but half-afraid not to be herself. She’d told Jane just to be normal. That meant that they talked about Phryne’s outfits and cheered the good moments. ”I want a sweater with my initials on it,” Darcy said, waving her pizza slice.

“You’d look good in that hat,” Jane said.

“Yup,” Darcy said.

“She likes hats,” Jane said to Brock. He nodded. He’d mostly been watching them, eating, and laughing softly at their commentary. 

“Is this movie a little hard to follow?” he asked.

“Yes,” Darcy said, “also, I think they’re overdoing the camels and traveling. I’m honestly a little disappointed there’s not more mystery, it’s a mystery show--”

“Mmm-hmm,” Jane said, nodding. “Not enough Phrack.”

“Phrack?” Brock said.

“Phryne and Jack,” Darcy said. “It’s a name smoosh, like Brangelina.” He smiled. “What?” she said.

“Name smoosh?” he said, voice warm.

“I forget the actual word,” she said.

“Shhhhh,” Jane said. “I missed dialogue!” She pressed rewind on the remote, swore, then had to have Darcy fix it. They watched one scene twice.

* * *

After the movie was over, Darcy walked Brock out. “Um, I had fun tonight,” she said awkwardly. She hadn’t quite worked out how she felt about saying goodnight. He smiled at her. “Hug?” she offered.

“Yeah,” he said. He was a very gentle hugger. Darcy sighed, letting herself relax in his arms. She didn’t mind this. Not at all. She might’ve been enjoying it when he dropped the arm that was around her back. Pulling back a fraction, he looked into her eyes. It was an intense look. “So, three seasons for one kiss, huh?” he said in a wry voice. He smirked.

“There might’ve been a small kiss in the course of undercover work before that,” she said slowly. Her mouth felt dry. “But it was purely to catch a criminal.”

“Sure,” he said, nodding. He stepped back. “Goodnight, Darcy. I’ll call,” he told her. She watched him go, stood for a moment alone in the hall, then went back inside.

“So?” Jane said. “What’d you think?”

“I had a great time,” Darcy admitted. She'd completely forgotten her original idea to suggest they stay friends at first. “He’ll probably never call.” She sighed. “Why can’t I be Phryne Fisher?”

“Which part? The solving crimes or the fashion?” Jane said.

“The man seducing part!” Darcy said, snorting. Wasn’t it obvious? 


	6. Wine Wednesdays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“So,” Jane said, “when is Rumlow coming over tonight?” Darcy looked up from where she was watching a curly hair tutorial on her laptop--the DC humidity was giving her wild frizz--and frowned.

“Um, he’s not,” she said. “Why?” She hadn’t heard from Brock today. Or yesterday. Which was unusual. Even on missions, he texted her jokes.

“Because he comes over every Wednesday and we watch stupid TV and drink wine?” Jane said. 

“Not _every_ Wednesday,” Darcy said, quashing the nagging feeling that he’d lost interest in hanging out with them because she never did anything beyond hugging him. It was one of her anxieties. She’d hugged him on Monday and he’d teased her about her long earrings being ‘very disco.’ She sighed wistfully. He gave good hugs. She was starting to really like the jokes and the banter. “I haven’t heard from him in awhile,” she added.

“Why don’t you text him and see when he’s getting here?” Jane said.

“I’m doing a DIY hair mask,” Darcy said, getting up and heading for the bathroom. “I might do curly hair method. I need to see if my shampoo has sulfates--”

“What method?” Jane said, clearly not following. Darcy glanced back.

“It’s a curly hair thing,” she said.

“I see you avoiding my question!” Jane said. 

“He’s bored,” Darcy said. “This isn’t what he wants.”

“Why don’t you text him and ask him what he wants?” Jane called. Darcy shut the bathroom door. “Fine, be stubborn!” she yelled.

“You’re stubborn,” Darcy muttered, before getting the jar of coconut oil out of the cabinet, then rethinking her clothes. She didn’t want to get coconut oil on her shirt. She looked around; her bathrobe was hanging on the door. Problem solved. If only her other problems were so easy, she thought, huffing out a sigh, as she undressed and put the robe on. She couldn’t call him. Not yet. Jane didn’t understand that the last thing Darcy wanted was confirmation of Brock’s wavering interest. She was beginning to feel, well, a little emotionally attached. Just a tiny bit. Being happy to see him at work or liking his jokes didn’t count as a deep connection or anything. So, it ought to be easy to get over, right? “Right,” she said aloud. She would be over this in no time at all. She scooped out the coconut oil and rubbed it between her hands. It emulsified, but there were still tiny clumps of coconut in the liquid. Irritating.

* * *

“The coconut oil in my hair makes me want Almond Joys--” Darcy was saying, as she emerged in her bathrobe ten minutes later, futzing with the plastic shower cap on her hand-- “and this thing is surprisingly noisy.”

“Yeah?” a voice that was not Jane’s said. Darcy looked over in surprise. Brock was sprawled out on the couch. “Jane said you were doing a hair thing?” he asked, looking curiously at her.

“Oh God,” Darcy said. “You weren’t supposed to see me looking like the nosy neighbor on an old sitcom!” He laughed.

“Why not?” he said. “That’s a nice bathrobe, by the way. It was originally pink, right? C’mere.” He patted the couch next to him. “Almond Joys, huh?”

“Ughhhhh,” Darcy said, embarrassed. It was a her comfiest bathrobe. There was a spattering of white bleach spots from a laundry mishap. She was going to say something about changing, but Jane stuck her head out of the kitchen.

“Brock was late because he got you white cheddar popcorn topping,” she said. In the kitchen, Darcy could hear kernels popping in the microwave.

“I got wine, too. I woulda called but my phone died at the gym,” he said. “But I thought you’d like that, Gladys.”

“Gladys?” Darcy said.

“Isn’t she the nosy neighbor?” he said, smirking.

“On _Bewitched!”_ Jane said cheerfully. “That can be your new nickname, Darce.”

“Wonderful,” Darcy said. Brock was holding his hand out. “I should go change,” she said.

“No, no,” he said, trying to coax her over. “I was already late, come sit by me.” 

“Okay,” Darcy said. She took his hand nervously and he guided her to the couch. “Thank you for the white cheddar stuff, that’s nice of you,” she added.

“No problem,” he said, patting her shower cap with a laugh. “So, what are we watching tonight?” 

“Um,” Darcy said, momentarily distracted. He’d reached for her hand again and was rubbing her hand between his. “I don’t know?” she said. God, this was embarrassing. “Jane?” 

“White cheddar popcorn!” Jane announced, setting down a big bowl. “I thought we could watch _Miss Fisher’s.”_

“Sounds good,” Brock said. “You gonna clutch your pearls?”

“We don’t have them yet,” Darcy said, “I’ve been terribly remiss in my search for pearls to clutch.”

“That,” Brock said in a wry voice, “is tragic, sweetheart. We’ll have to do something about that.”

“Yeah?” Darcy said. “You want to go to the crafts store or something?”

“Sure,” he said. As they watched Phryne Fisher solve a murder on a train, Brock kept jokingly patting her shower cap. 

“Cut that out,” Darcy said, grinning. She couldn’t even sound serious, she was so happy he was here. Almost relieved. 

“You smell delicious, by the way,” he whispered. “This whole thing you’ve got going, it’s very attractive.”

“Shut up,” she said, without heat. Next to her, he shifted, casually putting his arm behind her.

“You mind?” he asked. 

“Nope,” Darcy said, studiously avoiding looking at Jane. She could practically feel the smugness radiating from that side of the room when he put his arm over her shoulder. 

“Hey,” Brock said, mid-episode, “you know, I’ve been to Mount Kilimanjaro, too.”

“Yeah?” Darcy said. “Was it fun?” He squeezed her closer. 

“Less fun than your shower cap,” he whispered. She couldn’t help it: she laughed. 

* * *

Jane had fallen asleep in the other chair when he got up to leave. “I’d stay, but your roommate’s kind of a loud snorer,” he joked. “And I’ve got the gym in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, smiling back at him. He always had the gym. It was sort of a running joke between them now. He reached over and patted her cap another time as they walked to the front door. It crinkled. “Ahhh,” she said, mock complaining. “Not the cap again.” Then he tilted his head, looking perplexed. “What?” Darcy said.

“You thought I wasn’t going to show,” he said.

“No--” she began.

“Darcy, c’mon.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you got bored hanging around here,” she said, dropping her eyes to somewhere around his collarbone. She swallowed, waiting for him to say something. The hug took her by surprise. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, voice odd. “I’d never miss Wine Wednesday.” He was holding her tightly.

“Okay,” Darcy said, letting herself lean against him. She didn’t want to let go yet. She let the hug linger until he spoke. 

“I gotta go,” he said. She nodded, stepping away. He got several feet away, then turned back. “You’re going to the crafts store?” he said.

“Probably,” she said.

“Call me, I’ll go with you,” he said. 

“You don’t have to,” she said, feeling acutely sheepish.

“No,” he said. “I want to.”

  
  


* * *

“I can’t believe you’re going with me to craft store on a Saturday. Are you insane?” Darcy said, as the automatic doors opened and they were greeted by a burst of chilly air-conditioning and the sound of store muzak. They’d left Jane doing calculations in the living room and gone to find necklaces. Darcy wanted cheap ones. 

“Possibly,” Brock said coolly. Darcy couldn’t read his expression behind his aviators. He’d been quiet. 

“I’ll be quick,” she said, then promptly had to dodge two elementary school aged kids running down the aisle with seasonal decorations. A woman who looked like she could be their mother was calling out names at the far end.

“Noah! Emma!”

“Hey, slow down,” Brock said. “Noah and Emma.” He’d said it in such a serious voice, they actually stopped.

“Sorry,” they said simultaneously. Darcy looked at him as they walked away.

“That was a neat trick,” she said.

“I train new agents about half as wild as your average ten year old,” he said dryly. 

“I’m very impressed,” Darcy said, as they turned down the jewelry aisle. She scanned the items. “Where are you, plastic pearls?” she wondered aloud. Brock stood silently next to her, looking for all the world like a really attractive Secret Service agent. She laughed at the thought.

“What?” he said.

“You look like a cool Secret Service agent. I bet the Bush twins made their agents go to the craft store all the time,” she told him. The corners of his mouth twitched. “Ah ha,” Darcy said. “Here they are.” She’d found two of the fake pearl strands. “Five bucks a pop and I got a coupon,” she said. “We can go now.” He nodded and they moved towards the registers at the front of the store. On the way, they met Emma and Noah, still shrieking and chasing each other. “Aren’t you terrifically sad that you have to leave?” she joked. “Now you get to go back to your normal, fun dude Saturday.”

“Why don’t we get something to eat,” he said. “There’s a Mexican place I like near here?” Darcy looked up from where she was searching for her phone to use the coupon app.

“Sure,” she said. “That’d be great.”

* * *

It was different spending time with him without Jane as a buffer, Darcy realized, in a middle of a rambling, slightly nervous science anecdote that ended with explosions. “Anyway,” she said, “it went boom!” She gestured. Across the table, Brock smirked. “Am I talking too much?” she said, as the waiter arrived with chips and salsa. “I feel like I’m talking too much.” When she got nervous, she rambled. Sometimes loudly.

“Nope,” he said.

“Well, I’m just gonna stuff my face with warm chips and shut up now,” she joked. 

“I think you need a margarita,” Brock said, stopping the waiter at the next table. She nodded.

“You talk now,” she said, crunching on a chip. He chuckled. Then he told her a bunch of funny stories about work mishaps. “You got knifed in the face in a bar fight?” Darcy said, shocked. He pointed to a tiny scar on one cheekbone. 

“I was undercover,” he said.

“Were you really?” she asked. His voice had been smooth. Too smooth. She’d gotten used to his shifts in tone. Darcy could tell his jokes from his serious moments now.

“Sure,” he said. “That’s what the reports say,” he said, smirking. “It was just the edge of the knife.”

“That is entirely too near your eyes,” she said. “Oh. My God.”

“Nah,” he said, shrugging. “Being shot hurts worse than being stabbed, I can tell you that,” he added.

“I’m trying to decide if I should be more impressed or terrified?” Darcy asked. That made him laugh.

* * *

“How are you doing, mate?” Rollins asked. The note of concern was obvious. Brock knew this was coming. Rollins had crossed the gym and joined him in the sparring ring, not because he wanted to go a few rounds, but because he was a nosy fucker.

“Whaddya mean?” Brock asked, feigning the need for water. He slugged back the bottle.

“You and Darcy?” Rollins asked. “What’s the status of that, mate? You never talk about her, but Lee saw you having dinner on Saturday--”

“You got people spying on me now?” Brock said lightly. “She had an errand, I tagged along, we stopped for Mexican afterwards. End of story.”

“So, you like dating her, then?” Rollins asked.

“Yeah,” he said. He shrugged. “It’s different.”

  
  



	7. Happy and Giddy and Slightly Stupid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! But I couldn't leave that last scene alone, so here's your Friday night update....

“Different how?” Jack asked. “It ain’t like you to be cagey about who you’re with.” He was smiling now. “You’re gone on her, aren’t you? Shit, I can’t believe somebody finally got you to commit. So, things are serious?”

“You still don’t think I can hack it, huh?” Brock said. He tilted his head. “We’re good, all right?”

“I’m glad,” Jack said. “It’s good for you to have somebody, something real.”

“She’s very real,” Brock said, not wanting to elaborate. He felt oddly protective of his relationship with Darcy. When he wasn’t imagining her naked, that is. He seesawed between an intense desire to sleep with her and the vague feeling that their relationship was somehow fragile, like she might decide he wasn’t right for her if he vocalized it. He didn’t want to pressure her for sex or affection, after the card game misstep and her confiding that she normally wasn’t into it. But he’d never had a relationship where sex wasn’t constantly present: sex to feel good, sex to be playful, sex to end bickering and tension. Not that they bickered. That was new, too. His flings had always been about fucking in between rounds of fighting. He liked that back and forth. It exhilarated him. Usually. But Darcy was sweet to him. They didn’t snap at each other. He didn’t even want to make fun of her in that ridiculous shower cap, not really. She was impossibly sweet and funny and charming, he thought. He just didn’t know how she felt about him. Was she interested? His own feelings were more definite. He lusted. He daydreamed about her. He thought about her at night. In the mornings. Whenever he saw a joke she might laugh at. Or some terrible junk food. But he wasn’t going to tell anybody that he was tracking down a sold out card game and limited edition Pop Tarts to get her to like him more--

“You all right?” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “We gonna box or stand around talking?”

* * *

“So, do you want some alone time with Rumlow tonight?” Jane said, as they worked in the lab. “Thor and I were talking about dinner, but then it occurred to me that you might like it if we went out?” Thor was back from a trip to Asgard.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Tonight? Yeah, that might be good.”

“Might be?” Jane said.

“Okay, it would be,” Darcy said. She’d need to invite him over, see if he was busy.

“How do you feel about him, really?” Jane asked. 

“I like him,” Darcy said, admitting it for the first time. “He’s really nice to me. You don’t think he’s unnaturally nice do you?”

“Oh my God.”

“How many adult men do you know who go to the craft store?” Darcy said.

“Thor goes,” Jane said.

“Thor is, like, a happy person who doesn’t care about being cool,” Darcy said, sighing and rolling her head back to look at the ceiling. “He’s a Round! You know this.” They had a joking reliance on a Hairpin article that classified people as sensitive Pointies or laidback Rounds. Most Labradors were Rounds. Thor was Round. Loki was Pointy. Jane was Pointy. Darcy, despite her intense longing for chillness, got more than a little Pointy about dating. “Does seven percent bodyfat Brock Rumlow strike you as Round in any area of his life?” she prompted Jane. Jane scrunched her nose. “Don’t lie,” Darcy scolded.

“Okay, he’s a Pointy.”

“And two Pointies are the worst couple,” Darcy said, sighing.

“I still think you’re Round in all areas of your life that aren’t about dating,” Jane said.

“Very cleverly done, Pointy,” she said, “but totally a lie. I pretend to be Round, but there’s still boob sweat happening whenever I introduce you at panels.”

“Brock would probably laugh at that,” Jane said.

“Pffhhht,” Darcy said, then jumped when someone knocked on the glass lab wall behind her. She swiveled in her chair. Rumlow was standing there. “Oh,” she said, getting up. “You knew he was here, didn’t you?” She heard Jane snicker. 

“Maybe,” Jane said.

“Cut that out,” Darcy said. She opened the lab door. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hi,” she told him. “We were just talking about you.”

“Yeah?” he said, grinning.

“You free for dinner tonight?” Darcy asked.

“I can be,” he said. “I just saw Thor in the gym.”

“He and I are going to picnic,” Jane said smoothly, from somewhere behind Darcy. Darcy heard her roll her chair across the floor. “So you guys have dinner wherever you want,” she added. This was a lie, Darcy knew, because they had no food for picnics, much less Thor-sized amounts of stuff. Darcy leaned in to whisper.

“She’s trying to give us alone time,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve decided it’s cute.”

“Yeah?” he said, smirking widely. Darcy nodded. “Thanks, Jane,” he called over Darcy’s shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” Jane said.

“What if I make you dinner?” he offered. 

“Okay,” Darcy said, smiling. “I’d like that.” He grinned back at her. “What’s Jane doing behind me?” Darcy asked.

“Thumbs up,” he said. “That’s not rude in Asgardian, is it?” His voice was joking. 

“Nope,” Darcy said, feeling happy and giddy and slightly stupid at being face-to-face with him. “Um,” she said, then abruptly stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. She tentatively let her hands rest on his shoulders for a second, then pulled back. “Whoops, I don’t know wh---” she started to say, before he chased her mouth and kissed her again. He was less tentative than she’d been, hand cupping her neck. 

“Sorry,” he said, face still close to hers. “You were saying?” 

“Something,” Darcy said. “I forgot.” Behind them, Jane giggled.

  
  


* * *

He answered the door a moment after she rang the doorbell that night. “Hi,” Darcy said. “Again today.” She did a little wave, then immediately felt slightly dorkier than she had a second previously. 

“Hey,” he said, hugging her. “So, I lied to you,” he added, voice in her ear.

“Hmmm?” Darcy said. She’d closed her eyes to enjoy the hug.

“I”m a terrible cook,” he said in a warm voice. “I can, uh, burn water?”

“Oh,” she said, grinning. Their faces were close. “That’s cute,” she added, when he smirked at her.

“You think I’m kidding, huh?” 

“You can’t burn water without some sort of chemical,” Darcy said. “Like that river full of chemicals. In, uh, Cleveland?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” he said.

“I think it was Cleveland,” she admitted, still leaning against him. She straightened a bit of his t-shirt collar for no reason, then looked at him. “But you’re a terrible cook?”

“I can order in real fucking well,” he said, grinning. “You wanna do that?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Hold on, don’t move.” 

“Don’t move?” he said, frowning.

“I don’t want to end the hug,” she said. She got her phone. He swiped it smoothly, then took her hand and stepped backwards.

“We don’t have to end the hug,” he said. “It can be a couch hug.”

“Oh, yeah?” Darcy said, feeling a flutter of nervousness as he led her over to his couch. He had one of those massive leather couches that practically yelled ‘this is a dude’s place.’

“C’mere,” he said, sitting down and coaxing her into his lap. Darcy dropped her bag on the floor and let him put one arm around her. “What do you want? Chinese? Thai?” he offered. “You’re in charge here.”

“Oh yeah?” she said, wiggling more deeply into his embrace. He laughed.

“Don’t sound so skeptical,” he said. “Thai?”

“Okay,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. She listened as he ordered and gave them a credit card number. “What do you want?” he said. He handed her the phone and she spoke into it, looking directly into his eyes. He smirked. The expression on his face made her heart beat a little faster. “Um, yeah, pineapple fried rice,” she said awkwardly into the phone. “They’ll be here in thirty minutes,” she said. He took the phone out of her hand and hung it up.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Brock?” She leaned in and kissed him slowly, hesitantly. She had to close her eyes to feel less nervous, but she felt him smile. Then his hands wrapped around her back, coaxing her closer. When she relaxed, he dropped one hand to her thigh.

“This okay?” he said, pulling back a little. Darcy nodded.

“Yeah,” she said, feeling dazed.

“You’re in charge, remember?” he said in a low voice. Darcy couldn’t help it: she laughed in his face.

“I’m in charge of you?” she said. “Me?”

“Yes,” he said.

“This girl?” Darcy asked, pressing her thumb to her chest. 

“Uh-huh,” he said. Darcy leaned down again, pressing her forehead to his. She inhaled a shaky breath. “You doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “Kiss me again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rosa Lyster's Are You a Round or a Pointy? is the most brilliant thing: https://www.thehairpin.com/2016/08/are-you-a-round-or-a-pointy/


	8. Are You Down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! Slight angst warning for this chapter!

“Mmm,” she got out, as Brock kissed her again. She was in his lap, pressed against the hard planes of his chest. He was warm and steady. They’d been making out on the couch after dinner for what felt like forever. Darcy sighed. She needed to go home--she wasn’t ready to spend the night--but this felt too good. She tried to pull away, but he leaned forward, following her mouth. The hand he’d placed at the small of her back tightened. His aim slipped slightly and he missed her mouth, pressing his lips against the edge of her mouth and her cheekbone. His stubble was scratchy. She grinned in spite of herself; it tickled enough to make her giggle. He righted himself immediately, shifting to capture her top lip and sucking on it. “Babe,” she got out, between kisses.

“Hmmm?” he said, pulling back.

“I--I--” Darcy said, looking into his eyes. She meant to say ‘I need to go home,’ but the words died in her throat. His expression was intense. She could barely see the irises of his eyes, his pupils were so wide.

“You okay?” he asked, grinning slowly. “I don’t want you to fall out of my lap.”

“I don’t just fall everywhere,” Darcy said, sort of shoving at his chest in mock resentment. He didn’t move. Damn him, she thought, narrowing her eyes. He looked down at her hands and chuckled.

“No,” he said warmly, “you’re just hard to catch.”

“What?” Darcy started to say, mouth open, before he leaned in to kiss her again. This time, he slid his tongue between her lips. The gesture was playful and teasing. Darcy let herself enjoy it, warmth spreading through her body. She clung to his shirt, fingers curling around the cotton fabric. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest. She dropped one of her hands down to his waist, testing her own responses. It took her time to feel relaxed enough to enjoy sex.  _ Did she want to...?  _ Abruptly, Brock pulled back. When he stopped kissing her, she made an involuntary sound of dismay. He smiled.

“Stay a little longer,” he said. Darcy nodded. She would stay, she thought. Not all night. Just a little more time. She craned her neck to kiss him again. 

* * *

He was on top of her when he reached for the waistband of her leggings, calloused fingers dragging against her skin. His hand slipped into her panties. “Uh,” Darcy got out, heart sinking. She’d kept her clothes on for a reason. Turning her head, she reached down to grab his wrist. “Not yet,” she said. His hand stilled.

“No?” he said, voice low. His mouth was close to ear.

“I’m not ready,” she said quietly. 

“Oh,” he said. There was a long, awful pause. She could still feel him breathing as his weight rested against hers. She couldn’t move, not without him getting up. He was quiet and unmoving. 

“Brock?” she said, swallowing. She felt suddenly anxious at his silence and heaviness.

“Yeah?” he said. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” she stuttered. “I need to get up now.” He moved then, shifting his weight and lifting his body up on his arms. He got up carefully, planting one foot on the floor and then the other, all without touching her again. Darcy sat up and pretended to look for her shoes and phone. She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Um,” she began, letting her hair fall into her face like a veil. That way he couldn’t see her face. Or her eyes. 

“Baby,” he said, sounding awkward.

“I should go home,” Darcy said, trying not to get more upset.

“You don’t have to--”

“No, I really should,” she said, grabbing her messenger bag. She stood, pulling her shirt down, and purposefully fumbled with her phone. “I, uh, I’m going to go,” she said, ducking past him. “I had fun tonight,” she muttered, moving towards the door.

“Darcy, hold on, ” he said, grabbing her arm. That startled her. She made a sound and yanked her elbow away instinctively. He dropped his hand, then held both of them up cautiously. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he said. “Sorry.” He was using a calm voice, but for some reason, she didn’t feel calm. She felt awful. 

“It’s okay,” she said, taking a deep breath, trying to calm down. “We just got a little more intense than I was ready for.”

“Yeah,” he said, seeming not to know what to do with his hands. He sighed heavily and rubbed his face. “You can stay, you know. We don’t need to do anything else,” Brock said. “Just stay, all right?”

“You want me to stay?” Darcy said. 

“Stay,” he repeated, stepping closer. “C’mon. Stay.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, looking into his eyes. She really did like him. “I’ll stay,” she said.

“You’ll stay?” he said. He looked pleased. She nodded. He led her back to the couch.

“Why don’t you take your shoes off?” he said, patting the couch next to where he sat.

“And stay awhile?” she joked.

“Hmm?”

“Old joke,” Darcy said, settling in next to him. His eyes were still warm. He kissed her neck. His mouth moved from her collarbone up to her ears.

“You okay?” he said, pausing.

“Yes,” she said. He kept kissing her, hands trailing over her body. She let him. Sometimes, it was just easier to let things happen, she thought. 

“Darcy?” he said. 

“Yeah?” she said, trying to relax her shoulders. They were hunched. She still felt tense.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she lied. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I've written so much fluff, this went angsty on me. Sorry, sorry.


	9. Talk to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! TW: discussions of consent and past sexual activity that may not be for all readers

“Sweetheart,” Brock said, lifting his mouth from the curve of her shoulder, “you’re not okay.” She wanted to answer the right way, but Darcy felt torn. She didn’t know how he’d respond.

“I’m okay,” she insisted.

“Hey--hey, it’s all right,” he said. “Talk to me, huh?” he asked, voice low and gravelly. He cupped her face gently, running his thumb over her cheek. "Tell me what's wrong?"

“I want to be here, I really want to,” she said, “but I don’t know--it’s like I’m afraid, too.”

“What are you afraid of?” he asked. He said it softly.

“I’m going to freeze up because I’m a little nervous about being with someone new and it’ll be...not fun for me,” she said, keeping her eyes low. 

“I don’t want to do anything that’s not fun for you,” he said. She shook her head.

“You won’t know, Ian never knew--” Darcy said. 

“What do you mean, Ian never knew?” he said, voice going a little sharper. She felt him shift slightly, muscles tensing. “Darcy?” he said. Darcy took a deep breath.

“Um, sometimes, we had sex when I didn’t really feel like it,” she began, but stopped when he swore. 

“Fuck,” he said. Darcy looked up quickly. His expression was stunned. 

“It wasn’t like that, I swear,” she said. “He didn’t force me, I just wouldn’t really be excited. But I wanted him to be happy and I cared about him, so I would just--just lie there and think about something else.” Brock groaned, looking horrified. 

“That’s--it’s not right,” he said. She shook her head again, feeling defensive. He wasn’t understanding her right. She needed him to understand. Darcy rubbed her thumb across one of his biceps, studying the tattoo there, then inhaled again. She tried to explain it the way it felt to her.

“It’s no different from eating at a restaurant I don’t like or seeing a horror movie because he liked them. I cared about him, not the sex...” she repeated, then looked up at Brock. “You’ve honestly never done anything in a relationship because you liked the person, not the activity?” He was frowning. He looked confused. She sighed. “In the beginning, it wasn’t like that. We spent all this time together and got along really well, so I was really into it, everything was great, but as we grew apart, I wanted to have sex less and less. I used to just think about other stuff,” she said. 

“You disassociated during sex,” he said slowly. “That’s a symptom of PTSD, honey.”

“No,” she said firmly, “it was more like thinking about music during algebra class, I swear. I would just let my mind wander to stuff I wanted to do later. You’re thinking of something totally different than what it was.” 

“Yeah?” he said. He’d raised his eyebrows. “Really?”

“I compromised for the relationship,” she said. “I knew exactly what I was doing, okay?”

“Okay,” Brock said. She thought he looked dubious. “I don’t want--” he began, then swallowed, and started again. “Just tell me when you’re ready, all right? I want you to be happy. Nobody has sex until you want to. We’re not doing that.” 

“Yeah, okay,” she said, ducking her head and smiling. She was glad that he wasn’t trying to pressure her, even if he wasn’t totally getting it. Brock shifted her in his lap. 

“This okay?” he said. Darcy realized he was sort of cradling her, as he tucked her head under his chin. They sat there for a minute, gently swaying. She could feel his slow breathing. “So, you don’t want me to shoot your ex? I could do that,” he said quietly. 

“No,” Darcy said, laughing in surprise. “We just grew apart, that’s all. It’s not his fault I wasn’t interested in having sex with him once we weren’t as close. He’s an okay guy.” 

“Okay guy,” he said skeptically. There was scorn in his tone.

“He was!” Darcy said. He huffed slightly. She smiled. “I mean, he was a normal, sometimes oblivious dude,” she added. “He always left the dishes in the sink and he tracked dirt everywhere. Regular terrible boyfriend, don’t make those noises.”

“Uh-huh.” Brock rubbed her arms in long, slow strokes. It didn’t feel sexual. It dawned on her what he was trying to do was comfort her. 

“Are you holding me like a baby?” she said. It was endearing, but she wanted to laugh at the same time. She moved so she could see his face. His expression was serious. 

“I’m just holding you,” he said.

“Like a baby,” she said, grinning. 

“My baby,” he said warmly. She smiled back. He looked at her more seriously. “I didn’t mean to push you.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s good, I’m glad we talked about it, because I should have explained it more. But I’m not traumatized and I don’t have PTSD, okay?”

“Okay,” Brock said.

“You’re doubting me,” she told him.

“I just, uh, don’t really--my experiences have been different,” he said. 

“Mmm-hmm. It was a lot like a chore, really, at the end,” Darcy said, wiggling closer to him. She moved to rest her cheek against his shoulder. “Like dusting the top of a cabinet, because you know it’s dusty, but you have to get a ladder and you don’t really want to; you’d rather eat Fruity Pebbles and watch Netflix,” Darcy said. She traced his collarbone with her fingers. “So, either you dread dusting the cabinet for days and days, or you get it over in ten minutes and then you can cross that off your list and have Fruity Pebbles. You know what I mean?” she asked. Brock turned his head, grimacing. 

“What are Fruity Pebbles?” he said slowly, blinking. He looked dazed.

“A cereal,” she said, starting to grin. “You’re really cute, you know that?” She playfully kissed the notch at the center of his collarbone. Darcy felt relaxed again. All the tension had ebbed out of her body. She nuzzled him. Brock was still rubbing her back. She sighed against his neck. It was a good neck. He smelled wonderful. Clean. Warm. She pressed her mouth against his throat and felt him inhale. “Mmmm,” Darcy said. “This okay?”

“You know it,” he said, voice going warm again. 

“I thought I should ask you for a change,” she said lightly. The corners of his mouth turned up. 

“Yeah?” he said. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said, slowly kissing his chin. She kissed him until she drifted off.

* * *

  
  


When Darcy woke up, he was carrying her. “Hmmm?” she said, craning her neck to look around. They were outside. It looked like her parking lot. “Where--we?” she asked, yawning.

“You’re home. You fell asleep. I’m carrying you up to Jane,” he said, sounding fully alert and amused.

“Oh,” she said, closing her eyes again. Darcy opened them again when she heard Jane’s voice.

“Awwww,” Jane said. “Did she fall asleep?”

“Greetings,” Thor said, voice happy, from somewhere farther away.

“Crashed on my couch. I’ve got her leftover pineapple fried rice, too,” she heard Brock say. “She’s tired,” he added. “Thanks.” Darcy was dimly aware of being carried into her bedroom. She opened her eyes as Brock was taking her shoes off.

“Hey,” she said. “Thank you.” He dropped her shoes by the bed, came up to her, and kissed her as he tucked her blankets around her body.

“You’re welcome,” he said. "I'll see you at work, baby."

"Mmm-hmm," she said, eyes heavy. She felt him drag his fingers across her cheek softly.

  
  


* * *

“Foster?” Brock said, as he stood by the door of their apartment, “can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Jane said. 

“Can we, uh, step into the kitchen?” Brock asked. His tone was unusual.

“Yeah,” Jane repeated, with a glance at Thor. He frowned on the couch, but nodded at her look. “Is something wrong?” she asked Rumlow, once they were alone together. He was rubbing his neck. 

“Darcy told me something,” he said, looking sheepish. “I thought you might know about her and Boothby, since he was your assistant, too.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “What about Ian?” She realized she’d crossed her arms.

“She told me,” he said. “Shit. I can’t even say it.” He seemed to struggle with getting the words out. “She told me that she’d had sex with him when, uh--”

“She didn’t really want to?” Jane said.

“Yeah,” he said, shoulders sinking. He looked troubled. “I don’t know what to say to her to her about it. But I can't just--it's not right. It's not right.”

"That's not how she sees it, though," Jane said, shaking her head.

  
  



	10. Netflix and...Something?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Hey,” Brock said, stopping by the lab to see Darcy at lunch. “You doing okay?” He looked at her sympathetically, like she was a lost puppy. Or a kid in one of those heartbreaker St. Jude commercials. Those made her teary all the time.

“Oh no,” Darcy said, pulling her own face. “Not you! Not that face.”

“What?” he said. “Is there something wrong with my face? I got schmutz or something?” He touched his face reflexively and grinned.

“You know what I mean,” Darcy said, raising her eyebrows.

“I do?” He frowned. “I don’t,” Brock said.

“C’mon, you’ve gotta know,” Darcy said. He stared at her.

“She hates pity,” Jane said. “Can’t stand it.”

“Oh.” He looked puzzled. “I’m still confused,” he said.

“Let’s talk in the supply closet,” Darcy said, standing up. She walked him into the small space. He looked around, frowning. “Jane’s right, I don’t like people pitying me,” Darcy confessed.

“I don’t—” he began. She put her finger over his mouth.

“You looked at me like I was a starving puppy in that commercial with the Sarah Maclachlan song!” Darcy said. “This is why I don’t tell people about my sex life.”

“Baby,” he said, sighing. “I’m not people, I’m your, uh, boyfriend. I want to treat you like you deserve—make you comfortable, all right?” He rubbed her shoulders.

“Yeah?” she said, softening at his expression. Brock looked half concerned, half stubborn. It was oddly appealing to her.

“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer and grinning. He leaned in, but Darcy wasn’t done. She waved her hands in frustration.

“I just—pity is a depressing emotion, okay? It’s all _oh you poor thing_ and _poor Darcy_ and I hate it,” Darcy said. “I want to be normal!” He smiled gently and she shook her head. “Wait, scratch that—I _am_ normal. I feel normal, I just want people to treat me like I am, you know? Not like a freak or a sad case,” she huffed.

“Okay,” he said, dropping his hands to her elbows. 

“I feel normal,” she repeated softly. “This _is_ normal for me.”

“Yeah,” he said, stroking her arms with his thumbs. “I might know a little about that,” he said.

“Yeah?” she said.

“Well, you know, I don’t wanna brag, but I survived that building collapse,” he said. “You might’ve of heard about it?” He smirked. “But it fucked me up for a couple of years, until Helen Cho showed up.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Shit. I’m being oblivious.” She cringed. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“It’s all right,” he said, pulling her a little closer. “I’m just trying to tell you that I remember what pity’s like.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, feeling guilty.

“Now you look like a sad puppy,” he said, grinning and scrunching his nose. “Have dinner with me tonight? Real date?”

“We’ve been going on real dates,” Darcy said.

“Nah,” he said. “A real date has a nice restaurant with the good napkins.”

“I’ll have to wear pants,” Darcy said, a little wistfully. 

“I don’t make the rules,” Brock told her. She leaned in to kiss him softly. He was kissing her very carefully when the door opened.

“No having sex in my closet!” Jane said.

“Jane!” Darcy complained, turning to look at her. “We weren’t!” Brock chuckled, rubbing her back, and kissed the side of her hair. 

“Good,” Jane said. “I keep my Dry-Erase pens in here.”

“We’re going on a date,” he told Jane. “Tonight.”

“He’s taking me somewhere nice,” Darcy said. “I’ll have to wear grown up clothes.”

“Yuck,” Jane said.

“Both of you are like this?” he said, looking between her and Jane.

“You should see her when I have to throw away her holey flannels,” Darcy said. “One time, she tried to wrestle one of them out of my hands and I fell down.” She led him out of the closet by the hand.

“It was an accident!” Jane said, looking guilt-ridden. 

“I clean out her closets while she’s asleep now,” Darcy said. “It took days for the bruise on my butt to heal.”

“I really didn’t mean to make her fall,” Jane said in a sad voice. “I didn’t know she was a fall risk then,” she added.

“She knows now,” Darcy said. “We’d just met then.”

“Uh-huh,” Brock said wryly.

“So, you should be careful about sudden movements,” Jane said to him. “She just goes down like _poof.”_ She gestured. 

“This is true,” Darcy said. “I’m like a Weeble Wobble, but I don’t bounce back.” He started to laugh. 

* * *

The restaurant he took her to was very nice. Floriana’s in Dupont Circle. “Your scallops good?” Brock asked. He was smiling at her from across the table. They’d talked about safe things. It was too cozy a place to discuss anything sensitive.

“Yes,” Darcy said, smiling back. Darcy glanced around at the red painted walls of the converted townhouse. They were sitting near a fireplace. “Isn’t it interesting that all these nice restaurants in DC are converted townhouses?” she wondered aloud.

“I never thought about it,” he said. 

“I feel like Jerry Seinfeld,” she joked, shifting into a goofy voice, “hey, what’s that about?” He beamed at her. “What?” Darcy said.

“I can’t tell you how nice it is that you’re kind of a nerd, so I don’t feel like I’m one hundred fucking years old, dating somebody half my age, and trying to keep up,” he said. He laughed. “I don’t even need to try.”

“Excuse me?” Darcy mock-whispered. “Kinda a nerd?” She’d stressed the _kinda._ She gave him a look.

“Sweetheart, you like craft stores, board games, and British TV shows,” he said.

“Australian,” she corrected.

“Is there a difference?” he said dryly.

“Don’t you sarcasm me,” Darcy sassed back. “That is a beloved TV series.” He was eating when a follow up question occurred to her. “What would trying to keep up look like?” she asked, twirling her spoon in her risotto. He grimaced.

“Well,” he said, then closed his mouth. 

“Tell me,” she insisted. “I’m genuinely curious?” He shifted slightly, tilting his head. She could see the wheels turning in his mind. Finally, he spoke.

“Going clubbing,” he said, “with all these twenty year olds and staying out all night, drinking too damn much, pretending I know whatever fucking song or meme or app they’re talking about.”

“Ohhhhh,” Darcy said. “So, we’ve done this before?”

“For, uh, brief periods of time,” he said. “It works for very brief periods of time.” He grinned. “People of all ages think I’m an attractive man,” he said slyly. “But, uh, eventually--” He paused. “It just makes you feel stuck. Like you aren’t going anywhere.”

“Okay,” Darcy said.

“I have trouble getting depth in my relationships,” Brock said. 

“That sounds like code for ‘I’m kind of a hound dog’?” Darcy said, doing air quotes. He smirked.

“You been talking to Jack?” he said wryly. “Who told you?”

“You just told me,” she said, laughing. Why did he want to be with her, she wondered? He looked at her. 

“Also, twenty five year olds don’t have good poker faces,” he said, “so when you show up all burned, it freaks them out.” He mimed jumping, as if he was startled.

“Your girlfriend did that?” Darcy said, horrified. “Or boyfriend,” she added, unsure.

“No,” he said, “but all her friends did.” He started to laugh, doing the startled gesture again. “It’s like”--he mock-jumped-- _“oh, shit, man. Oh shit._ And then they catch themselves and they’re really, really nice to you for the whole night. I got six people refilling my water, going, _don’t get up, don’t get up._ Like my injuries prevented me from getting up from the table.” 

“That’s how it was, huh?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “So, this”--he gestured between them-- “is really good for me. You’re good for me.”

“Sure,” Darcy said. “I’m the nerd who doesn’t make you feel uncool?” She made her voice arch. 

“You’re taking this the wrong way,” he said, pointing his fork at her. “I like that you’re like this. And you don’t try to give me molly,” he added. 

“Huh?” Darcy said.

“Sometimes, when people feel sorry for you, they try to give you some of their stash--”

“Ohhh,” Darcy said. 

“---and then you have to explain to Bobby, the twenty-three year old Pete Davidson lookalike who is your date’s roommate, that you are a federal agent and he shouldn’t do that,” Brock said dryly. 

“Did you arrest Bobby?” Darcy said, leaning forward.

“God no, if I’d arrested him, who would’ve refilled my water?” Brock said. “You want dessert?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, between giggles. She was midway through some chocolate mousse when he sighed. “What? Want some?” she offered. He shook his head, looking horrified by the idea of actually eating dessert. 

“No, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my place tonight?” he said. “How do I ask you that without pressuring you?”

“Oh,” Darcy said. She was trying not to grin.

“Just to hang out,” he added, gesturing with his palms out. “No pressure. We can spend time together, you know...”

“Did Bobby teach you Netflix and chill?” Darcy asked teasingly. “Because, you know, it’s never just chill.” He grinned. 

“I promise I’m not a Bobby,” he said. 

* * *

“You realize,” Darcy said, curled up with Brock on his couch, “that we could’ve done this for the price of takeout and you wouldn’t have spent, what, eighty dollars on dinner?” 

“You didn’t like your chocolate mousse?” he said, arm around her. She dotted kisses on his neck as he scrolled through Netflix options.

“You could’ve fed me pizza and Little Debbie,” she joked, knowing that he would scoff. His eyebrows went up. “You know, those little chocolate cakes. Or, ohhh, Zebra Cakes!” she said. “Jane and I made a birthday cake out of those one time, when we didn’t have an oven.” He looked horrified. 

“Please don’t tell me these things,” he said slowly.

“Do they make you feel old?” Darcy asked.

“No, they make me feel sad,” Brock said. He started to laugh. “Little fucking Debbie?” 

“I got the idea off Pinterest,” she grumbled. “Shut up.” She kept kissing him. 


	11. PSA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“So,” Jane said, when Brock brought Darcy home after several intense makeout sessions and lots of Little Debbie jokes, “the first real date went well?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, sighing. She felt all kinds of warm, fuzzy feelings. “Where’s Thor?” Darcy wondered. 

“He went to a beer garden. I think Bucky and Steve will return him,” Jane said. “Sometime.”

“Good,” Darcy said, smiling.

“You’re grinning,” Jane said.

“I need to call my OB-GYN,” she said. “And see if she wants to see me before she refills my old birth control prescription.” She’d gone off the pill for awhile after she and Ian ended things.

“Ooooh,” Jane said. “Someone’s serious.”

“Shut up,” Darcy said.

“Have you thought about an IUD?” she said. “I love mine. It’s the best. I wonder if I saved the pamphlets?”

“If you did, it’s because your wonderful assistant put it in your medical file,” Darcy said. Jane got up, then stopped.

“Where would--” she began.

“Top drawer of the file cabinet in your bedroom closet, between the car insurance file and my medical file,” Darcy said. “If you hit the file for all your undergrad seminar essays you’ve gone to far,” she called out. “But you should think about throwing those away!”

“Never!” Jane yelled back. Darcy wondered what Brock was doing. He’d probably gone home and gone to sleep, she thought. He got up early. There was a thump from the bedroom.

“You okay?” Darcy yelled.

“Yeah,” Jane said. Her voice was muffled. 

“What happened?” Darcy said, when she came out holding brochures.

“My old textbook fell on my shoulder,” Jane admitted. She rubbed a red mark on her arm.

“Which one?” Darcy asked.

“Calculus,” she said mournfully.

“Ouch,” Darcy said. She took the brochures from Jane. “Thank you for incurring injury to help me prevent pregnancy.”

“You’re welcome,” Jane said. 

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Are you awake? It’s not am emergency.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I’m awake. Something wrong?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Everything’s fine. I just wanted to talk. 

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Ok.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Do you have strong feelings about birth control?

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** It’s good?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** No, I mean types of birth control.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Oh. 

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I’ve never really thought about it.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** The pill? Or condoms?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Well, yeah. I used to be on the pill, but I was looking at Jane’s IUD pamphlets. There are other options. 

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** I had no idea that copper IUDs were good for a whole freaking decade. But there’s also an implant that goes in your arm that’s good for five years, too. They’re more $$, but convenient. I’m going to make an appointment with my OB-GYN this week.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** You want me to help you decide what kind of birth control you use?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Why not? Shouldn’t we talk about this stuff?

She watched the text message dots appear and disappear and frowned. Finally, he responded.

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I thought that was your decision, not mine.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Did you want me to pay for it?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** No, but I thought you’d at least be interested since the kind of birth control I use determines how soon we have sex?

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Okay.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Whatever you want, I’m fine with. 

She huffed as she stared at the screen. “Jane,” she grumbled, “am I being unrealistic?”

“Hmm?” Jane said, looking up from her laptop. Thor hadn’t come home yet.

“Adults should be able to discuss birth control options together, right? I feel like I’m being dodged or something,” Darcy said. “Like he isn’t interested?” She passed her phone over. “How does that read to you?”

“Like he’s letting you decide?” Jane said. “Which I think is appropriate. It’s your body--”

“And my choice, I know, you bought me that t-shirt,” Darcy said, sighing. “But I want someone who’s interested in making decisions with me, you know? Doesn’t Thor talk about this stuff with you?”

“Yeah, but Thor’s special,” Jane said. “He doesn’t have regular guy birth control squeamishness.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, feeling oddly frustrated. It was so stupid, that people couldn't just talk about birth control. She wanted to be with someone who was _present_ for stuff like this. Not to just tell her that it was her decision and check out.

“Maybe this isn’t a conversation for text,” Jane said. 

“Probably not,” Darcy said. “I’m going to call him, just see how he sounds.” She got off the couch and walked to her bedroom.

“Tonight?” Jane called

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “He says he’s awake.” She dialed as she sat on the bed. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey!” she said brightly, then frowned. There was noise on the line. Lots of it. Darcy could hear music and voices. 

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s loud here.” 

“Where are you?” she said, curious. He obviously wasn’t at home, she thought.

“Barnes and Rogers invited me out to a beer garden thing--” he began.

“Oh, Thor’s there!” Darcy said.

“— and then we--me and some of the STRIKE guys branched out to another bar,” he added. 

“Oh,” she said.

“I said hey to him,” Brock said. There was a pause. Darcy listened to the blaring music and people talking. “I had too much energy to sleep, baby,” he said.

“Yeah?” Darcy said, feeling weird. If he had energy, why not stay with her? He could have stayed at her place, hung out with her and Jane. She said so. 

“I thought you wanted to sleep!” he yelled. “This place is too loud to talk.”

“Okay,” Darcy said, standing up and walking out to the hallway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Brock said. “All right, baby?” 

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Goodnight.” She hung up. Darcy looked at Jane.

“What is it?” Jane asked.

“I think he was drunk,” she said. “He sounded drunk. He was at a bar with the other STRIKE guys.”

“Oh,” Jane said. “You’re upset.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I am. Should I be upset?”

“Explain to me why you’re upset?” Jane asked.

“He could’ve spent more time with me,” Darcy said. “If he didn’t want to go home. But he went out to a bar instead--or he could’ve invited us. Why didn’t he invite us?”

“You don’t really like bars,” Jane pointed out. 

“Yeah,” Darcy admitted. “I might’ve said that.” 

* * *

She was still feeling weird—unsettled in ways she couldn’t identify—when Thor arrived home, flanked by Bucky and Steve. They were fulfilling a support role. “Ladies,” Bucky said, shifting Thor on his metal arm.

“Helllooo,” Thor boomed. “I love you both very much! My beautiful Jane, my lightening sister!”

“Shhh,” Steve said. “Inside voice.”

“He’s had a little bit too much of some Asgardian home brew in that flask of his,” Bucky said, grinning. 

“Shit,” Jane said, exchanging a glance with Darcy.

“Tis not home brew for mortal men, it is the finest liquor of Asgard! Brewed for a hundred years--” Thor said loudly.

“Okay, pal,” Bucky said reassuringly.

“We thought we got rid of those,” Darcy said to Steve. He was grinning.

“You missed one,” he said. 

“Whoops,” Darcy said.

They’d tucked Thor in carefully when Darcy got up the nerve to ask Steve about Brock. “Did you see Brock at the beer garden?” she said, voice carefully neutral. Steve looked at her. Too late, Dacy remembered he had that good hearing. He could probably hear her heart beating too fast.

“Rumlow?” he said. His voice had a funny tone. He frowned.

“They’ve been dating, Punk,” Bucky said. He smiled sweetly at Darcy. “Dating’s never been his area.”

“You shut up,” Steve muttered. “I’m dating you.”

“Only took you seventy years,” Bucky said, giving Darcy one of his swoon-worthy, megawatt smiles.

“I bet you’re hard to forget,” Darcy said. 

“Don’t flatter him,” Steve said. “He’s already incorrigible--”

“Didn’t you level an entire federal headquarters trying to get him back?” Jane said, walking into the living room.

“Also, he robbed the Smithsonian,” Darcy added.

“Steve,” Bucky said, in a mock-horrified voice. “Nobody told me you _stole.”_

“It was my uniform first,” Steve said, the corners of his mouth turning up. There was a glint in his eye. Jane and Darcy looked at each other and burst out laughing. 

“People forget you’re funny,” Bucky said.

“I don’t know why,” Steve said. 

“Nobody ever forgets I’m handsome, though,” Bucky said. “You ever notice that?” 

“It’s--it’s probably the school PSAs,” Darcy said, between peals of laughter. “We’re all conditioned to take you too seriously, Captain.” Bucky’s eyes lit up. 

“The what?” he said.

“Public service ads,” Darcy said. “That they play in schools, like old film reels.” Bucky nodded, still grinning.

“Steve,” Jane said, over Steve’s groans, “encourages kids to follow the rules and stay in school.”

“I need to see these,” Bucky said, “immediately.”

“Shit,” Steve said. Darcy got her laptop and they all crowded around. When she found the clips, she was glad she watched the play of expressions across Bucky’s face.

“This is--this is fraud, sweetheart,” he told Darcy, laughing. “The man never met a rule he didn’t break! He would’ve spent every single day in detention if I hadn’t covered for him.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said.

Eventually, Steve grumbled and retreated to the kitchen with Jane. She and Bucky kept watching. “This is amazing,” Bucky said.

“Yup,” Darcy said. She looked back at Steve. He was talking to Jane in the kitchen, face serious. He looked like he was going to heroically punch a Nazi. “Why’s Steve doing poster face at Jane?” she wondered out loud. Bucky looked over her head.

“What law are you going to break now, Punk?” Bucky called out playfully. Steve looked over, smiled for a second, then went serious again. Was it Darcy’s imagination, or was he looking at her?

“Bucky, did I not pay my taxes?” she whispered. He laughed. Bucky was a great guy, Darcy thought. She understood why someone would fight for him. She walked him to the door when Steve said something about letting them sleep. “Goodnight, guys!” Darcy said, leaning out of the front door to wave. They waved back. 

“Lock that door now,” Steve said seriously.

“Yes, sir,” Darcy parroted, as Bucky shook his head. She saluted jokingly.

“He gives out a lot of orders for a guy with a week of Army training!” Bucky called out. She was still laughing as she shut the door.

“Aren’t they cute?” Darcy said, turning back to look at Jane. She was staring off into space, expression strange. “Jane?”

“Huh?” 

“Are you okay?” Darcy said. 

“Yeah,” Jane said.

“Aren’t Steve and Bucky cute?” she repeated. Jane nodded absently.

“I’m going to check on Thor,” Jane said, abruptly leaving the room. Darcy frowned, confused. Jane never worried about Thor’s drinking. But maybe it was the three of them drinking together, all super powered livers and whatnot? She walked back into the living room, hearing a sound. It was her laptop, still running the reel of Steve’s PSAs. That made her think of Brock. She turned off the laptop and picked up her phone. No new texts. Usually, he texted her goodnight. He might still be out. She decided she’d make herself a cup of hot cocoa before bed. 

* * *

She was walking to her bedroom when she heard Jane and Thor having a whispered conversation. It sounded like a fight. Jane was angry, but whispering too low for Darcy to distinguish her words. “Shit,” Darcy said out loud, after she’d shut her bedroom door. She didn’t like it when Jane and Thor fought. They loved each other so much, they were always both miserable and mopey whenever they had a disagreement. Jane tended to fume and vent at her, then Thor would be all puppy sad and couldn't eat, so Darcy always felt torn. Their fights were predictable now. On one hand, yes, Thor should call out his father when Odin called Jane a goat, on the other hand, Jane had a terrible habit of getting wrapped up in work and forgetting that they had date night and that hurt his feelings, too.  
  
Darcy sighed as she sat on the edge of the bed. She hoped it would all blow over by morning.


	12. Pedestrian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Darcy was bustling around the kitchen in the morning when Jane came stumbling in. “What’s up buttercup?” she said cheerfully. “I’ve got maple bourbon bonbon coffee. Want some?” Darcy knew that if Jane frowned, it meant she and Thor were fighting. Jane frowned. 

“I need to talk to you,” she said, looking unhappy.

“Oh no,” Darcy said. “What did he do? Did he call you a goat again?” 

“What? No,” Jane said. “Will you, um, please sit down? I’ll make your coffee--” she was saying, when Thor stepped into the kitchen. He looked worried. 

“Come, Darcy,” he said. “Let Jane fix the coffee.” He put an arm around her and steered Darcy towards the couch. 

“Okay, what’s going on?” Darcy said. Thor patted her arm.

“Jane would like to discuss something with you,” he said. Darcy realized he looked miserable.

“Are you going away again?” she said, horrified. 

“No,” Thor said, shaking his head. Jane sat down next to Darcy and passed her a mug. She was frowning so hard, there were furrows between her eyes. 

“I have something to tell you,” Jane said. Darcy stared. Jane was actually wringing her hands. 

“Okay,” she said slowly. She waited a beat. Abruptly, Jane got up and paced in front of the coffee table.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she said, flinging her hands out. 

“Please tell me you’re not breaking up?” Darcy said, looking between her and Thor. Thor shook his head, squeezed Darcy’s arm, and cleared his throat.

“Let me, Jane,” he said. “I was not aware…”

“Because you had all those spirits last night,” Jane said, almost snapping. Darcy couldn’t understand why Jane looked so angry. “If you’d been sober, you could’ve called me! I would’ve come down there!”

“Aye,” Thor said, looking sad. “But Captain Rogers is incapable of intoxication--”

“I know,” Darcy said. “He can’t get drunk on normal stuff.” 

“He is a very good witness, Darcy,” Thor said. “Exceedingly trustworthy.”

“Yeah?” Darcy said, nervous at the somberness of his expression. “What exactly did Steve witness?” 

“Brock was drunk,” Jane cut in. “You were right. Steve said he drank a bunch of tequila shots and God knows what else, he was putting them back--”

“Oh,” Darcy said. 

“Steve said he was fine at first, but as the evening went on, he was--” she paused to gather herself-- “he was all over people,” Jane said. “The asshole.”

“All over how?” Darcy asked. She realized she was holding the coffee unevenly--it threatened to spill over--and Thor took it from her gently. His expression was sympathetic.

“He was dancing. Steve said he wouldn’t call it dancing,” Jane said. “He was wasted. Basically, grinding on a bunch of different people and touching them. Really touching them and flirting.” Her voice was emphatic.

“Oh,” Darcy repeated, feeling numb. _I guess that explains why he didn’t invite me,_ her brain supplied, _he wanted to have fun without me._ “So, Steve told you that in the kitchen?” she said carefully.

“He wanted to tell you, but I said I would, because I knew it would be upsetting." Her face was grim. "Honey,” Jane said, “please don’t cry.”

“I’m okay,” Darcy said, blinking. She shook her head. “I’m okay.” Jane looked worried.

“I blame myself,” Jane said, “I shouldn’t have encouraged you to go out with him knowing his history--” 

“No,” Darcy said reflexively. It wasn't Jane's fault. "I knew, he told me," she said. There was a tightness in her chest, like someone had hit her.

“He’s not good enough for you, that's what Steve said,” Jane said. A thought nagged at Darcy. 

“Are we sure Steve knows about dancing now, though? Could he be exaggerating?” she asked. She couldn’t keep the doubt out of her voice.

“I don’t think so,” Jane said. “Steve said he kissed one of the STRIKE guys, too. I’m sorry.”

"Oh," Darcy said.

“Very sorry,” Thor said.

“He’s an asshole and you’re better off without him,” Jane said. “I wish I could have shown up there and slapped him.” As soon as she said the words, Darcy imagined how awful it would be. The very last thing she wanted was acrimony. And gossip. She felt nauseous.

“Please don’t make a scene at work, either of you,” Darcy said, internally panicking. “He--he knows so much about me, I don’t want there to be gossip. Please,” she added. She felt like she really could vomit, imagining the SHIELD gossip mill finding out about her demisexuality. “I’ll just end things. Quietly.”

“Okay,” Jane said.

“Do not worry, Darcy,” Thor said, hugging her gently. His tone was so soft, she burst into tears.

  
  


* * *

She called him from the lab once they were at work. “Hey, sweetheart,” Brock said. He sounded fine, she thought. Even happy.

“Hi,” Darcy said, not knowing what to say. She wanted to end things cleanly. Carefully. She could sense that Jane was listening just from Jane’s tense posture and straight-ahead gaze and that made her more anxious. She needed privacy. Darcy got up to walk to the supply closet. “I thought we could have lunch together? Somewhere away from work?” she offered, shutting the door. She swallowed nervously. She could break it to him gently somewhere else, without eavesdropping or anger.

“Great,” he said. “You wanna try Tiger Fork?”

“Tiger Fork?” Darcy repeated.

“I think you’ll love it,” he said. 

“Okay,” she said. “Where is it?”

“N Street,” he said, “but we can ride together.” She could hear him tapping keys on his keyboard.

“No,” Darcy lied, “I’ve got to run an errand afterwards--”

“Sure,” he said. “Twelve-thirty?”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “I’ll see you soon.” When she stepped out of the supply closet, Jane looked up. 

“Did you break up with him?” she said, voice quiet.

“I’m meeting him to do it at lunch,” Darcy said. 

“Oh,” Jane said. “Okay.”

“I want this to be amicable,” she told Jane. Jane nodded. Darcy looked at the clock. She only had a few hours before noon, she thought, sighing. “I’ll leave early to find parking,” she added, more to herself. When she googled, she realized the restaurant was two blocks away from a metro line. “I’m going to walk,” she told Jane. She checked the train schedule.

“Are you sure?” Jane asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. It was safer not to drive, really. She pretended to be paying attention to Jane’s emails, but really she was zoning out. Everyone else seemed to be zoning out, too, she realized, as she took the train to the Vernon Street metro station. She put her earbuds in and gazed at some middle distance. Her eyes traveled from the black and white floor of the train to the edges of the window opposite her. She avoided eye contact with the other passengers. The fluorescent lights on the train and the concrete inside the station seemed especially grim. Darcy practiced what she wanted to say as she took the escalator to the exit, then walked to the restaurant. Standing alone at a crosswalk, she tried it out loud. “I’m not ready to go further, so I think we should just be friends,” she whispered to herself. She had decided it would be less messy that way. There was no reason to drag Steve and Jane into her breakup. It could be irreconcilable differences and there would be no workplace drama. Also, maybe Brock wouldn’t tell everyone she was demi. She tried to envision how he would respond. As soon as she imagined it, Darcy wanted to cry again. “Fuck,” she said out loud, startling the man crossing in her direction. Why did she have to care? Behind her, a car honked and she jumped, wiping at her eyes. Their light had turned green while she was standing at the edge of the sidewalk. She shook herself, nerves jangling, and finally found the red painted exterior of Tiger Fork. It was tucked inside an alley. She took a deep breath before she opened the door. Darcy looked around the small space, expecting him to be sitting there.

He wasn’t there yet. Then she remembered she was early. 

* * *

As she sat waiting, Darcy realized this was the wrong kind of restaurant for a breakup. It was small and busy. Most of the tables were long, cafeteria style wooden ones. She’d managed to snag a two seater, but her table was elbow close with the next one. She was fretting when a waitress came by. “Would you like a drink?” the waitress offered.

“Diet Coke--” Darcy was saying, when Brock arrived with his usual energy. She was slightly surprised that he didn’t seem hungover. 

“Hey, baby,” he said cheerfully. He shed his SHIELD jacket, hanging it on his chair.

“Hi,” Darcy said. 

“I’ll have a water,” he said to the waitress.

“Okay,” she said, a little too brightly, before she walked away. Darcy felt her own smile faltering as he sat down. 

“I think you’ll love this place. Great duck, good noodles. I know how you feel about noodles,” he told her. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said, feeling stiff and awkward. He didn’t seem to notice.

“We’ll have to come for dinner sometime,” he said, still smiling, as he looked over the menu. He beamed at her. 

“What?” Darcy said.

“They’ve got a drink here called In the Mood for Love,” he said. “It’s supposed to be an aphrodisiac.” He winked at her. 

“Oh,” she said. She looked at the page of cocktails. “And one called Nothing is Real,” she added. 

“Are you all right?” he asked. Before she could answer, the waitress returned.

“What would you like today?” she said. Darcy sincerely wished she wasn’t there. She wanted to sink into the floor and disappear.

“Baby?” Brock said. “You okay?”

“Yeah--yeah,” Darcy said. She ordered an appetizer. 

“That’s all you’re getting?” he said.

“I’m not that hungry,” Darcy said, mind spiraling wildly. She dreaded having this discussion. She should have done it over the phone, she thought. Once the waitress left, he looked at her.

“What’s going on?” he said. 

“I’m just tired,” Darcy lied. Brock seemed to study her. He leaned forward to whisper.

“Is this about your birth control?” Brock asked. He was frowning. She stared at him. “I felt like you were upset with me last night,” he said, in a more normal voice. He rubbed his neck. 

“I was,” Darcy said. This time, at least, it wasn’t a lie. She felt emboldened, since he’d brought it up first. “I don’t want to be with someone who is uncomfortable talking about something that’s so important to both of us,” she said, waving her fork. “And shouldn’t a grown ass man be comfortable with health discussions? You’re old enough,” she added, feeling petty and small. His eyebrows went up. 

“I just thought that was your decision,” he said, shrugging. Was it her imagination or did he sound defensive?

“When I ask for your opinion, doesn’t that mean--” she was saying, when the waitress arrived with her cucumber salad. “Thank you,” Darcy said, trying to school her face into a more neutral expression.

“Your food will be out shortly,” the waitress said, grinning at Brock. 

“Thanks,” Brock said, smiling back at her. The look on his face made Darcy’s heart hurt. _Fuck him,_ she thought, wondering if that was his flirtatious face. She stabbed her cucumber with her fork as he sipped his water. “How is it?” he said.

“It’s fine,” she said.

“You’re still pissed about the pill, aren’t you?” he whispered. “You just murdered a cucumber.” He smirked.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Darcy said, putting down her fork. She wanted to flee. Just get out of there. Everything was all wrong. Whenever she panicked, she wanted to run. 

“What?” he said. 

“Lunch, today, everything,” she rambled, reaching for her purse. She’d made sure to have a little cash. 

“What are you doing?” Brock asked.

“I’m not ready,” she said, remembering her practice line. “I’m not ready to move forward with you. I think we should just go back to being friends,” Darcy said, then shut her mouth abruptly. It had all come rolling out of her mouth too quickly. She hadn’t said it right.

“What?” he said, looking like she’d slapped him. 

“I can’t,” she said. “I can’t.” She put cash on the table and stood.

“Darcy,” he said, attempting to stand, too.

“No, I just--I need to go,” she said. “Please don’t follow me.” She heard him say her name more than once, but Darcy didn’t look back.

She fled the restaurant, starting to cry as she walked towards the metro station. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry.


	13. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Too late, Darcy realized she’d been crying so hard, she was slightly lost. She didn’t recognize any of the buildings around her. She must’ve gone the wrong direction, she thought, pulling out her phone to figure out where she was. It had to be a block or two shy from the metro station. She was standing on the curb, trying to sort out her street map through tear-blurred lenses, when an SUV pulled up. “What are you doing?” Brock said, rolling down the window. “Get in the car.”

“I’m taking the train,” Darcy said. “What are you doing here?” She’d told him not to follow her.

“Did you think I couldn’t find you? You’re lost. Station’s four blocks that way. Get in the damn car--all right, I didn’t want to do this,” he said, at her head shake. He got out and physically hustled her into the passenger seat. “Don’t argue,” he said.

“I hate you,” Darcy seethed, as he got in the driver’s seat. She didn’t know why she’d said it and immediately wanted to take back the words. She started to cry silently again.

“Tough,” Brock said, “Klein told me you almost wandered into traffic back there.”

“What?” Darcy said, wiping at her eye.

“I got him to track you with traffic cams--are you crying?” he said. 

“No,” Darcy sobbed, trying to get control of herself.

“What the fuck is going on?” he said, sounding more sad than angry. Behind them, a car honked. He waved an arm out his window. “Go around, asshole!” he yelled. The person honked again. “Shit, I’ve gotta move,” Brock said. He circled the block as she cried. “Baby,” he said softly. “Baby, stop crying, okay? Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

“No,” Darcy said, shaking her head. He pulled into a gas station and looked at her.

“What’s wrong?” he said. “I got you lun—”

“It’ll never work, okay. It won’t work,” she told him.

“Baby, we can talk about birth control, we can talk about whatever you want,” he said. “Just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Now you want to talk to me?” she said. “Last night you didn’t.” She felt like she was circling what she really wanted to say, too afraid to actually say it. It hurt too much to vocalize that she knew that wasn’t enough for him, even for a single night.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said, almost sourly. She looked at him. He looked tired and frustrated. Of course, he was, she thought. He had to be frustrated.

“We’re the perfect pair, I guess,” Darcy said, looking at him as he rubbed his jaw. Brock turned his head to look at her.. “I’m too repressed to even talk about it and you don’t repress anything.” He flinched in her peripheral vision. Even she could hear the bitterness in her voice. She knew it wasn’t helpful. Darcy sighed. 

“What the fuck is going on?” he said, voice low.

“Someone”--she wasn’t getting Steve involved-- “called me up to tell me you were wasted and having a lot of fun without me last night,” Darcy said, tilting her head and looking straight ahead. “You kissed someone.”

“Jesus Christ,” Brock said. “Shit. It wasn’t like that--”

“So, they lied, huh?” she said. 

“I kissed Sanchez on the cheek,” Brock said. “Yeah, I was drunk. It didn’t mean anything, we were just cutting up, kidding around. Baby, I swear--” He held his hands up. “Didn’t mean anything.” Darcy looked at him, feeling the urge to cry again. “I’m with you,” he said. “Just you.” He reached for her, leaning over the console to kiss her again. Darcy felt herself want to relax into the kiss. She wanted him so much. She leaned forward and felt him pull her closer. His mouth was soft, then more urgent. He kissed her eagerly. But then her doubts bubbled up again, echoing with Jane’s words from this morning.

“No, no,” she said, pulling back. “I--you were flirting with everyone! That’s what they said.”

“Baby, I’m a happy drunk,” he said. “I hug everybody, it doesn’t mean anything.” He looked reassured by his own words. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went out for a few, it was just guys’ night, that’s all. Thor was there and Jane doesn’t mind, does she?” His voice was calmer, almost persuasive.

“Oh,” Darcy said flatly.

“I mean, sweetheart, you know how I feel about you, I’m committed to you--” he said, leaning in again. She shifted out of his grip and he sat back with a sigh, doing that coaxing gesture with his hands again.

“You,” Darcy said, feeling bright, sharp pain behind her eyes, “you probably think I’m so stupid, don’t you? Stupid, naive Darcy, she’ll believe anything I say.” She looked away, gazing out to the gas station’s parking lot. People were going in and out, carrying bottles of soda and cups of coffee. “Was this going to be one of those things where I was the girlfriend you knew wouldn’t cheat?”

“What?” he said.

“Plenty of people want that, the girlfriend _and_ the freedom to do whatever when she’s not around. I’m the boring, safe option. I’d just be right there where you left me, while you slept with half of DC,” Darcy said bitterly, crossing her arms. “Because people who cheat always worry their partner does, too? But, hey, I’m a sure thing, right? The uptight girl who likes the craft store would never cheat on Brock Rumlow,” she said, popping open the car door forcefully as she said his name.

“Where are you going?” he said. He sounded upset. Darcy took that as confirmation of her theory.

“I’m going to work,” she told him. “I can find my own way. I don’t need anything you’ve got.” She shut the car door.

* * *

Darcy was all cried out by the time she got back to the metro station. She texted Jane that she was on her way. Across the train, an older woman smiled at her and Darcy tried to smile back. It didn’t feel convincing. She rode the elevator back up to the lab. Jane was waiting for her. She looked up immediately when Darcy spoke. “Are you okay?” Jane said.

“Hi,” Darcy said. “I’m exhausted. We had a huge fight in his car.”

“He came by here,” Jane said. “He left your lunch.” She gestured to the takeout boxes sitting on the lab table. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. She was surprised to see that he’d ordered her noodles. She sighed over the takeout plate. The food was good, but she couldn’t eat. She looked up at Jane. “He was trying to play me,” she said morosely. “I think.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jane said.

“Will you eat this?” she said to Jane, passing it over. Something fluttered to the floor. A piece of pink paper, probably a receipt. It had been wedged between the container and Darcy’s lap.

“Are you sure?” Jane said. “You can’t not eat.”

“I’m too upset,” Darcy said, reaching down to retrieve the receipt. That was when she realized Brock had scrawled a message on the blank side.

_I didn’t mean to upset you, baby. Call me when you’re ready to talk, okay?_

* * *

“Hey,” Jack said to him. Brock looked up from where he was lacing his gym sneakers. Jack was using a careful voice. “You all right, mate?”

“Fuck no,” Brock said, shutting his locker with force. “But everybody knows that, right?” The SHIELD gossip mill had caught on that he and Darcy’s breakup had been messy. He knew everyone assumed he’d cheated. He didn’t give a shit about people talking. He’d never given a fuck what people thought of him. “I’ll be fine eventually,” he lied. He’d called Darcy repeatedly in the week since she’d practically jumped out of his SUV. She didn’t return his messages. Not a single call. None of his texts. He huffed out air, nostrils flaring.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said.

“Thanks,” Brock said, huffing a little. “Let’s go fucking hit something.” They were circling each other when Jack quietly suggested that he call Darcy, talk to her. “I’m not gonna drag this out,” Brock said bluntly. “If she doesn’t want to talk to me, it’s over.”

“Okay,” Jack said, nodding. Brock had to restrain himself from hitting harder. Talking about it made his heart rate increase and his head pound. He stopped when Jack needed a break and checked his voicemail. 

“You have no new messages,” the smooth, mechanical voice said. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. He couldn’t stop checking it, though. He looked up when Jack walked back over. “You ready to go again?” Brock said.

“Sure,” Jack said.

“You want to get drinks tonight?” Brock asked, as they climbed into the ring. “I could use a fucking drink.”

“We’ve got plans, mate,” Jack said. “Gavin’s got a work thing.”

“Oh,” Brock said. “Well, shit.” He pasted a grin on his face, feeling hollow. “Enjoy yourself with the lawyers and the bleeding hearts.” Gavin worked for a legal aid non-profit. 

“Too right,” Jack said, voice light.

“C’mon,” Brock said. He raised his fists.

* * *

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I miss you, baby. Call me?

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** We can work this out if we talk.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I don’t understand why you won’t fucking talk to me. I didn’t fucking cheat. 

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I kissed Sanchez as a joke. It was a joke. Why are you doing this to me?

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I just want to see you. 

* * *

Brock went to the bar alone that night. “You have no new messages,” the smooth voice was saying in his ear, as he downed another shot of Reposado. He inhaled, nostrils flaring. He didn’t feel drunk--yet. He was chasing that relaxed, happy feeling that came from the right balance of alcohol and serum in his bloodstream. Unlike Cap, he could still get buzzed. That was one fucking thing HYDRA had gotten right, he thought bitterly. He set the glass down with a thump.

“Can I get one more of these?” he asked the bartender. The man nodded. Across the bar, a woman smiled at him and he put his phone away. He arched an eyebrow at her. When the bartender slid his shot over, Brock gestured. “Send her a drink,” he said, “whatever she’s drinking.” He was on his next round of tequila when he felt someone tap his arm.

“Thanks for the drink,” she said, smiling.

“Did I pick the right thing?” he asked dryly.

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, sliding on the barstool next to him. “You totally picked the right thing.”

“Lucky guess,” Brock said. He held a finger up to the bartender. “One more,” he mouthed. He felt the woman lean against him a little. The hand on his arm fell away--then brushed lightly against his thigh. He half turned his head. She was smiling at him.

  
  



	14. Nothing Will Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Hey, would you like a Coke float?” Jane asked. Darcy was sitting on the couch, feeling lousy. She’d been flicking through Netflix options for the past five minutes, too tired to engage with anything new, but having watched GBBO too many times to count. She’d been struggling with insomnia lately. 

“Hmm?” Darcy said.

“Thor wanted one, so I decided we could make some,” Jane said. “I picked up some vanilla ice cream and Cokes---I’ve got regular, diet and diet cherry. Which one do you want?” Darcy looked at Jane’s hopeful expression and couldn’t say no. Jane knew she liked diet drinks better than regular. It was obvious that she’d gotten them for Darcy, not Thor. All the last week, Jane had been trying to do nice things with her. 

“Cherry would be nice,” Darcy said softly. Jane was trying. She could try, too. She stood up. Her phone dinged. It was another text message from Brock. This time, there were typos.

“Is he still texting you?” Jane asked. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I think he’s drunk again.” He kept calling and texting. But one of the agents from Technical Analysis had apparently seen him at a bar.. Several coworkers had definitely seen him at DC bars. People were reporting back to Darcy that he was a mess. It left her feeling torn—was that a sign he really cared?

“Do you want Thor to get him to stop?” Jane offered gently.

“No,” Darcy said. “I don’t know. It’s so….I just, I’m angry and I miss him and we were barely even together. I feel so stupid. Why am I so stupid?”

“You’re not stupid,” Jane said, setting down the ice cream scoop and coming over to hug her. “You’re not stupid.” Her voice was firm. 

“Okay,” Darcy said, wiping at her eyes. She left the phone on the end table. She pretended not to hear it when it dinged again. Instead, she joked with Jane and Thor and goofed around with her straw. Darcy was blowing bubbles in her float when her phone actually started to ring. Thor frowned. Frustrated, Darcy stood up and answered on impulse. “What do you want?” she said.

“Darce--” Jane was saying, from close behind her.

“Is this Darcy?” a female voice said. “I‘ve got your boyfriend’s phone. Someone needs to come pick him up.”

  
  


* * *

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Jane said, as they followed the GPS directions to the bar. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. 

“What about his STRIKE buddies,” Jane muttered venomously. “Can’t they pick him up?”

“There it is,” Thor said, pointing to the bar. There was a red sign above the awning. 

“Can you circle the block while Thor and I go get him?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah,” Jane said, still looking like a pissed off raccoon, Darcy thought. She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out on the pavement, following Thor into the bar. It was a narrow, dark space. She saw Brock slumped against the back of a booth in the corner. A woman was with him, staring at her phone. Darcy’s heart twisted. She had known it wouldn’t feel good to see him, but she hadn’t expected it to feel this bad. She froze--and was seriously tempted to turn on her heel and leave. But Brock saw her first. He stood, face alert, then made to step forward and then had to catch himself on the table top when he wavered. Thor hurried over to grab him.

“I’ve got you,” Thor said, holding his elbow. 

“Hey,” Brock said, eyes locked with Darcy’s. She looked down. The woman on the other side of the booth stood up, looked at Darcy, and spoke.

“You’re Darcy?” she said. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“He’s had a lot of tequila,” she said. “I don’t know how he’s still standing up.”

“Sorry,” Brock said, grimacing.

“I’ll send you a bill for my shoes,” she said sarcastically, then rolled her eyes when he couldn’t see her face. “Don’t let him puke in your car!” she called as she left the bar. Darcy watched her go, then turned to Brock.

“I like her, maybe you shouldn’t let her go,” Darcy said wryly.

“Baby,” Brock said, trying to walk towards her and stumbling. “Fuck.”

“Shut up,” Darcy said, torn between frustration and weird sympathy. She’d never wanted to slap someone and hug them at the same time. “Let’s get you some air,” she said. Thor carefully shepherded him out of the bar and they walked a few blocks down until they caught up with Jane, still circling the block. Darcy stayed several feet ahead of him, so they wouldn’t have to talk. She got to Jane’s car first. “He’s too drunk to be alone,” she told Jane, sliding into the seat. “We’ll have to watch him overnight.”

“Okay,” Jane said. Thor helped him into back and Darcy reached for one of the water bottles she’d brought. She’d survived several parties on Asgard.

“Darcy,” Brock said, as she turned to pass the bottle back.

“You need to drink water,” she said, not looking at him. She sat back in the passenger seat, crossing her arms. She felt defensive. “There’s nothing you can say to me that’s more important than that,” she added. He winced in the mirror.

“So, that’s where I stand?” he cracked.

“For the record, I didn’t think she should come get you,” Jane said, moving them back into traffic. Her eyes flicked up the rearview mirror. Brock was sitting in the backseat with Thor. “And you look like shit.”

“Thank you, Jane,” Brock said. They drove in silence. “This is not the way to my apartment,” he said. “Unless I’m really fucked up?” Darcy didn’t acknowledge that he’d spoken. Thor patted his knee.

“You shall be all right,” Thor told him. 

* * *

Brock woke up uncertain of where he was. Everything was too bright and too loud. “Ugh,” he said, “what fucking died in my mouth?”

“I don’t know, but you owe Kristen seventy bucks for her shoes,” a voice said. He opened his eyes. Darcy was sitting in the chair opposite the couch, holding a coffee mug. He was on her couch, he remembered. They’d brought him here, given him a blanket, a bucket, and several water bottles, and Darcy had gone immediately to bed. He’d been left with a chilly, visibly angry Jane and a sad-seeming Thor. He could hear their voices from another room now.

“Hey,” Brock said. “Thank you for last night. Listen, I wanna say--”

“Look,” Darcy said, gesturing to cut him off, “I’ve read all your texts, okay? I’ve read them.” She sat her mug down with a thunk.

“Oh,” he said. He waited for her to go on. He expected her to chew him out, but she merely looked sad. 

“You don’t think you did anything wrong,” she said softly. That soft voice gutted him.

“No,” he said, trying to sit up. “Baby, I can expla--” She waved her arms again, making an x with her hands, then clasped them to her chest.

“I miss you, too,” she said, visibly tearing up. “But we’re _such_ different people. So different.” He looked at her, uncertain. “I want things and you want things and they’re just impossible to reconcile, you know?” Darcy said, blinking. “That’s what I’ve been thinking.”

“What are you saying?” Brock said.

“I really, genuinely want to be your friend,” Darcy said. Her voice cracked a little and she inhaled, nostrils flaring. “I mean that. It’s not just something I’m saying because it’s something you say. I miss you being around. I couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about you.”

“Yeah?” he said. “You miss me?” He couldn’t keep the eager note out of his voice.

“But,” Darcy said, “we’re--we’re so different, Brock. Can’t you see that?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Different’s good, though--” She shook her head.

“You think kissing somebody’s just fun,” Darcy said. “I’m not like that.”

“It was Sanchez, I’m telling you,” Brock said.

“I know, okay? I know,” Darcy said. “Please stop doing that.”

“What?” he said. “I’m just trying to fucking explain, all right?”

“One day it’s Sanchez, the next day it’s Kristen,” Darcy said. 

“Bullshit,” Brock said. “Just listen to me, goddamn it. Give me some fucking credit--” He couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. 

“Don’t yell at me,” Darcy said.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry.” He dragged a hand over his face. His head was pounding.

“This is what I mean,” Darcy said, beginning to really cry. He felt a twist in his gut. “We’re too different to be together.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “But I think we can really be friends.”

“You want to be friends with me?” he said. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“We can hang out together and see each other at work,” she said. He sat up slowly.

“Hang out together?” He frowned.

“Nothing will change, not really,” Darcy said. “If you want to try?” 


	15. Just Friends?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“You want us to be friends?” Brock said, staring at her blankly. Darcy’s heart lurched. He was going to say no, she thought. He looked like he wanted to say no. He was going to get up and walk out and she’d never see him again.

“Yeah,” she said. He rubbed his forehead and Darcy felt sick. The moment seemed to stretch on forever. There was a tight knot in her throat. Suddenly, she realized Brock was shaking his head.

“Baby,” he said softly, “you and me, we’re not just friends, we’re a fucking couple.” He shifted his feet off the couch, turning to sit and face her. “You think we can just turn it off?” he asked. To her surprise, his voice was calm. He reached for the bottled water on the coffee table and swigged. Darcy watched him, feeling her breathing slow down. He eyes flicked to her, then followed the bottle as he set it down.

“I think we can try?” she offered. “Maybe we’re better off as friends?”

“That’s what you want?” Brock said. “Really want?”

“Yes,” Darcy said. She took a nervous sip of her coffee, feeling his eyes on her. 

“All right,” he said. “I’m gonna have some trouble, though.”

“What?” Darcy said.

“I’m crazy about you,” Brock said. “I don’t want to be your friend, I want to be your boyfriend.”

“I don’t know how to respond to that.” She paused. “You say that--” her voice went up-- “but you were drinking and kissing people in bars--” Darcy got out, before he reached over and stopped her.

“I don’t wanna fight,” he said. “And I never wanted to hurt you, okay?” 

“Do you need help?” Jane asked, appearing at the edge of the living room.

“No, that’s okay,” Darcy said.

“I’ll go,” Brock said. He looked at her. “Walk me out?”

“Sure,” Darcy said, heart thudding. He rose slowly. “I’ll get you a water,” she told him, going to the fridge. They met at the door and she passed him the bottle. “You should drink this,” Darcy said. 

“I will,” he said. “Darcy, I, uh--” He paused. “I’ll see you at work. We’ll try this friend thing, okay?”

“Okay,” Darcy said, feeling a weird urge to cry, even though he was doing what she wanted him to do. 

* * *

Darcy saw Brock at work several times over the next few weeks. They passed each other in the hall. He always spoke to her and she tried to smile back before she said hello, even when her smile felt awful and false. “You okay?” Jane said.

“No,” Darcy said. She had to lean against the wall in an alcove. “I miss him.”

“I’m sorry, Darce,” Jane said quietly. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. Then there was a staff meeting where she tried not to look at him. He’d walked in with the STRIKE guys, looking ridiculously handsome and appealing. Darcy dragged her eyes away. “Candy Crush?” she said to Jane in a whisper. 

“Sure,” Jane said. Darcy was purposefully not looking forward. She didn’t want to see where Brock sat or if he talked to anyone. Like Sharon Carter. People were gossiping about him and Sharon Carter maybe going out, since Carter had come back from Germany. Darcy had overheard someone in the hall talk about them having some sort of weird HYDRA history? Darcy glanced over to the side of the auditorium where Sharon was visible, long blonde hair gleaming. Intelligent, slim Sharon with all her skills, Darcy thought enviously. She realized she was spiraling. She heard someone sit in front of them and Jane’s eyes widened a fraction.

“Hi,” Brock said. “Everything going okay?” Darcy turned her head sharply.

“Yeah,” Darcy lied. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Brock repeated.

“Hello,” Jane said. She gave him a tiny smile. The scientist was thawing slightly, Darcy realized, since Jane knew how much Darcy missed him. Also, Brock was being good about boundaries. Friendly, but low key. She tried not to stare at the back of his head. Darcy ached to touch him--to run her fingers through his hair, hold his hand, curl up in his lap--so much that she was afraid someone would read it in her face. Instead, she kept her hands in her lap as the staff meeting droned on. He turned abruptly.

“You still doing yoga?” Brock said. 

“Yeah,” she breathed out. He was so close to her, leaning one arm over the chair back. She let her eyes linger on the tattoo on the back of his bicep. 

“One of the STRIKE agents is teaching a course I thought you’d like,” he said, reaching into his pocket. He passed her a flyer.

“Thanks,” Darcy said. She looked at the flyer. “Candle lit restorative yoga, that does sound cool.”

“I thought you’d like it,” he said. “Just be careful if they use real candles, all right? Don’t trip, sweetheart.”

“Shut up,” Darcy grumbled, without malice. He grinned and faced forward. She got to spend the entirety of the staff meeting studying the way the close-cropped hair grew on the back of his head. She’d watched him get up when Jane elbowed her.

“We can leave now,” she said gently.

“Oh yeah,” Darcy said. She ate entirely too much Ben & Jerry’s that night. “Jane,” Darcy said, mock-begging, “take this ice cream away from me, I’m going to kill this container.” She waved her spoon at Jane from the couch.

“Glampfire Trail Mix?” Jane said. 

“New flavor,” Darcy said, blowing a raspberry. “It has marshmallows and pretzels.”

“I’ll take it,” Jane said.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. She sighed. “Should I take this yoga class?”

“Are you hoping he’ll be there?” Jane said.

“No,” Darcy said. She folded the flyer. “Maybe.”

“Uh-huh,” Jane said. 

“What?” Darcy said. She went to yoga. He wasn’t there. But she did have a good time--and she avoided the flickering candles. As she left class, she sent him a thank you text. 

* * *

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** I survived the tiny candles. [photos] **  
****  
Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Good. You gotta watch out for tiny candles, they’re assholes.

Darcy wondered if she should reply again. Was this enough to be friendly? What even was enough? Appropriate? She was debating it internally when the phone dinged in her hand. She looked down.

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** You have a good time?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I did. 

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** I was sort of wondering if I’d see you there?

“Shit,” Darcy said, doubting herself as soon as she hit the send the button. She was sitting in her car outside the yoga studio. “Fuckdoodles. I’m so stupid! So stupid!” she said out loud. Why had she done that? How stupid was she? Her phone dinged again.

**Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** I should've gone. I was thinking about taking the vinyasa flow one. You got any feelings on that?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** It’s flowy? And fast? You’d like it, I think?

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** Good to know.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Thanks again. Goodnight.

 **Cmdr. B. Rumlow, STRIKE Alpha:** If you’ve got a minute, I wanted to ask you about this board game... 

  
  


* * *

Darcy swore to herself that she wouldn’t text him again. And she didn’t--not while she was driving. Just in the parking lot. And at a long red light, which was probably illegal. On her way into her apartment. “Jane,” she said, when she walked in the door, “take my phone and put it in the freezer.” Jane looked up from where she was reading on the couch.

“Brock?” she said. 

“I can’t stop texting him!” Darcy said. “Someone take my phone.” Jane took it from her. “Thank you,” Darcy said. Jane looked at it curiously.

“I think putting it in the freezer hurts the phone,” Jane said.

“Aye, I lost one that way,” Thor said.

“What were you doing? Ice cream?” Jane said.

“Yes,” he said sadly. “I forgot the phone in my enthusiasm.”

“Happens to all of us,” Darcy said, pacing. “Give me my phone back, please.”

“Nope,” Jane said.

“Damn it,” Darcy said. The phone dinged again. “What did he say?” Darcy said.

“Goodnight,” Jane said, reading off the screen.

“Oh,” Darcy said. 

* * *

“So, how are things going with Darcy?” Jack asked Brock. They were midway through vinyasa class. “I heard you turned down Carter.”

“He did?” Gavin said. Jack’s husband was on his other side. “Captain America’s ex?” Brock rolled his eyes.

“You’re asking me this now?” Brock said. The three of them were in cobra pose.

“It does seem kind of inappropriate, honey,” Gavin said. “It’s an emotional topic.”

“My emotions are fine,” Brock grumbled. “It’s an amicable break up. We’re friends.”

“Too right,” Jack said, nodding. The instructor called out a change. They switched poses rapidly. 

“Motherfucker,” Brock said, feeling the tightness in his quads as he struggled into bow pose. He was breathing heavily when Gavin grinned.

“You know when they call it an amicable break up?” Gavin said, turning his head.

“Yeah?” Jack said.

“When the woman dumps the man and he wants her back,” Gavin said dryly. Jack started to laugh.

“Shut up, both of you. Why you gotta bust my balls when I’m trying to self-improve and shit?” Brock said. “I haven’t had a drink all week.” The yoga teacher shushed them.

* * *

  
“I’m going to get coffee,” Darcy told Jane one morning. "You still have my phone."

"You can have it back in the afternoon," Jane said, "which will give you a twelve hour texting break from sending Brock photos of otters."

"Fine," Darcy said. "But he sent the first otter. Technically, it was two otters, holding hands."

"Uh-huh," Jane said.

"I know you're making fun of me."

"Not just you, the guy sending you otter-themed texts," Jane said archly.

"Yeah," Darcy said. She tried not to look at Jane; it had made her grin like a goober. "Vanilla flavored coffee?"

"Yes," Jane said.

"Okay."

Darcy walked to the nearest SHIELD break room--then froze in the doorway. Brock was filling the coffee pot. “Hey,” he said, looking up as she walked in. He smiled.

“Hi,” Darcy said, heart in her throat. 


	16. Coffee Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I was just, uh, making coffee,” Brock said, grinning at her. Darcy stepped into the break room, feeling awkward. That smile was enough to wreck her. “You look great--” he said at the same time she spoke.

“I’m here for Jane’s coffee,” she said, then actually heard him. “Oh--thank you,” she added. She looked down. “It’s just a regular Wednesday outfit.” She was wearing a peasant top, her favorite brown cardigan, and leggings. She looked back at him. It was amazing how photogenic he could look, even in a terrible fluorescent-lit room like this. 

“You look really great,” she said, then internally cringed at how silly she sounded. To her surprise, he brightened.

“It’s just my regular tactical gear,” Brock said smoothly. He straightened up. “Can I--would it be okay if I hugged you?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. As soon as she said it, he’d wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. Darcy’s nose was against his neck. He smelled so good, she remembered, enjoying his cologne. Spicy and warm. She melted a little. She’d curled up against him--his stomach was crazy firm against her chest--when she realized what he was doing. “Are you smelling my hair?” she said.

“Shit, sorry,” Brock said. “Did I make it creepy? Fuck.” Darcy started to giggle. He sounded so embarrassed. “Don’t laugh,” he said, looking even more embarrassed. “I, uh--”

“I was totally huffing your t-shirt collar, no worries,” she said, biting her lip. She glanced up at him.

“Yeah?” he said, smirking.

“Possibly,” Darcy said, leaning forward again. If he wasn’t letting her go, she wasn’t, either. 

“So, uh, you guys doing movies tonight?” Brock said, after a pause. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. She couldn’t look at him. “We miss you on Wednesdays.”

“What if I stopped by tonight?” he said. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I’d like that, if you want to?” She glanced up nervously again. “But no pressure.”

“I’ll be there,” he said, letting her go slowly. Behind them, the coffee brewed and sputtered. 

“Okay,” Darcy said.

“You, uh, want some of this?” he offered, then grinned at her. There was a pause. “Sorry,” Brock said, “I meant the coffee. You know I meant the coffee, right?” 

“You’re the one who said it,” Darcy sassed back. “And I have my own coffee.” His grin widened. She caught herself, smothered her returning grin, and went over to the other coffee maker, spooning in coffee from a bag labeled, “Foster’s Lab” she got from the cabinet above. Brock poured his own cup and watched her, leaning against the counter. “Something on your mind?” Darcy said.

“I have to remember that,” he said. “Darcy has her own coffee. Doesn’t need me to rush in offering her my coffee all the time.”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, “not that I don’t appreciate the offer.”

“You do, huh?” Brock said. He’d pitched his voice low. He looked like he wanted to say something. “Sweetheart--” he began. 

“There you are,” Sharon Carter said, stopping in the doorway. She was looking at Brock. “I was looking for you, you’re late for this meeting. Hi, Darcy.” There were voices in the hallway.

“Hi,” Darcy said to Sharon, feeling weirdly disappointed.

“I’ll be right there,” Brock said, shifting abruptly into serious mode. He was frowning.

“Okay,” Sharon said. She made a face at him, then seemed to catch herself and smiled at Darcy. “See you around! Tell Jane I said hello, too.” 

“Sure,” Darcy said. Sharon did a little wave, then walked away. Darcy heard her take a few steps.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” Brock said to her, voice softening again.

“Sure,” Darcy repeated. She was aware that Sharon was impatiently waiting for him in the hall. He left and Darcy tilted her head to listen. 

“I was having a damn moment with her back there, Carter,” Brock said scoldingly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sharon said. A third, huskier voice joined in and Darcy recognized it immediately.

“You totally stepped on his moment,” Natasha Romanoff said. “Has she forgiven you yet?” 

“We’re trying to be friends,” Brock said, sounding grim. “It’s what she wants.”

“It’s not what he wants--” Sharon said. Their voices faded as Darcy stood there with her coffee cups.

* * *

When she got back to the lab, Jane looked up. “You okay?” she asked. Darcy set down the coffee mugs.

“Just how many people at SHIELD know that Brock and I were a thing?” Darcy said. She’d been wondering.

“Umm,” Jane said. Darcy frowned.

“That many?” she said.

“He was visibly wrecked after you broke up with him,” Jane said. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“But you didn’t tell me that,” Darcy said.

“I just found out this week!” Jane said. She sipped her coffee and then grinned. “Did you want me to tell you everything I know?”

“Yes,” Darcy said slowly. “Is it bad? Don’t tell me if it’s bad.”

“Nope,” Jane said. “Apparently, there was a lot of getting maudlin in bars and saying he’d messed up a good thing with you. Also, a lot of talking about how great and funny and gorgeous you are--”

“Oh,” Darcy said, torn between being sad and wistful.

“But there’s something more important,” Jane said. 

“What?” Darcy said, immediately nervous.

“Steve is like the only person who thinks he was cheating at the bar,” Jane said. “I told someone you’d heard that Brock had kissed Sanchez and that’s why you broke up and they were, um, really surprised?”

“What?” Darcy said.

“Apparently, there’s no romantic vibe between them and no one else thought anything of it,” Jane said. “Just Brock being drunk and funny.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Seriously?”

“Beth in R&D says Sanchez is like the comedian of the STRIKE team and they play practical jokes a lot,” Jane explained carefully. “She sort of laughed in my face when I told her that was the reason you’d broken up.”

  
  


* * *

“You’re good at ideas,” Brock said to Jack, as they supervised a training exercise for the STRIKE teams. He’d pitched his voice low.

“Yeah?” Jack said, equally quiet. He flicked his eyes to Brock. The agents were running movements in front of them.

“I need to bring Darcy something tonight, I’m hanging out there,” Brock said. “Wine seems like a bad fucking idea.” He was cutting back a little. Just a break. People took breaks from drinking all the time, right? Brock couldn’t help thinking about how wasted he’d been when she’d picked him up from the bar. Major fuckup numero dos.

“Yeah,” Jack said. 

“But what the fuck do I bring?” he wondered.

“Food?” Jack said. Brock snorted. 

“Who the fuck are you thinking of?” Brock said. Jack grinned. 

“Oh, yeah,” Jack said. “I forgot you live on protein bars and takeaway.”

“Takeaway,” Brock repeated. “Your country’s so fucking weird.”

“You want my help or not, asshole?” Jack said.

“Yeah,” Brock said. There was silence as they thought. “No booze and I’m shit at food,” he muttered, more to himself. 

“You could bring her a present?” Jack suggested. “Something for her?” Brock thought for a moment.

“I been old watching board games on ebay,” he said. “But I keep getting outbid—what? She likes ‘em.”

“Something bloody romantic, you idiot,” Jack said, sighing. “Chocolate? Flowers? Jewelry?”

“Shit,” Brock said. He paused. “I could do chocolate. She likes chocolate.” He sighed. “I still think the board games are a good idea.”

“Haven’t you played enough games with this woman?” Jack snarked.

“You shut the fuck up,” Brock said, pointing. Jack started to laugh. Brock shook his head, grinning. “I wanna do this right,” he confided, “I’ve got to get her back, you know?” He rubbed his jaw. 

* * *

Darcy was nervously pacing in her room when he knocked on the door. “Brock’s here!” Jane yelled from the living room. 

“Okay!” Darcy said. She checked her reflection in the mirror and tried to walk out calmly, like she hadn’t been wearing a tread in the carpet. “Hi,” she said. He was standing there in the foyer with a bag in his hand. 

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “I brought cheese.”

“You brought cheese?” Darcy said, eyebrows going up.

“The guy at the cheese counter says this is really good shit,” he said. Darcy couldn’t help it; she laughed. “What?” Brock said.

“You just said that funny." Darcy bit her lip. “Lemme see this really good cheese?” she said. They went into the kitchen.

“I was looking for champagne cheddar, but it’s hard to find,” he said.

“Seasonal,” she said, smiling to herself.

“I’ll keep looking,” he said. He cleared his throat. “I’m cutting back on my drinking a little bit.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “That’s good, if that’s what you want to do?” 

“Yeah,” Brock said, nodding. Darcy was aware that Jane was watching them, looking pleased. She made a face at her. Jane made one back. “What are you doing?” Brock said. 

“Nothing!” they said in unison. Darcy caught him frowning as they unpacked the cheese. 

“Something wrong?” Darcy asked.

“No,” he said quickly. “But, uh, I’ve got something else for you, too. Can I, uh, steal her for a minute, Jane?” he said.

“Sure,” Jane said. “I’m making popcorn for the movie.”

“You mind if we go in your room?” he said. Darcy nodded.

“Sure,” she said. He followed her down the hall. It was strange to have him in her room, she realized, as she shut the door. He looked funny standing in front of her dresser, glancing at her things. “I’m messy,” she said quickly. She never made her bed.

“It’s a nice room,” he said, eyes lingering on her bed. She had a lot of pillows. And copper string lights threaded through her Craigslist headboard.

“You can sit down,” Darcy said, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah,” he said, folding himself awkwardly down at the foot of her bed. He seemed to hesitate, opening his mouth and closing it as he looked around the room.

“My stuff’s not fancy,” she said. “We moved too much--”

“I bought you a present,” he said, sounding nervous. “I don’t know if you’ll hate it.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, “I’m sure I won’t.” She tried to sound reassuring, sitting next to him. He brought a small box out of his jacket pocket. “Wait,” Darcy said, “hold on.” She put her hand on his forearm. “There’s something I want to say first.” 


	17. A Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I think--I made a mistake,” Darcy said, stumbling a little over her words. Brock looked at her. For a horrified moment, he thought she meant that inviting him over had been a mistake.

“What?” he said, blinking. He was frozen. She inhaled and then started again.

“I’m really sorry I accused you of cheating and lying to me,” she said, swallowing. “I messed up. Can you forgive--oh.” He’d felt a rush of relief so intense that he did the first thing he could think of, kissing her eagerly. Her words were cut off. “Mmmphf,” Darcy said, evidently surprised.

“Shit,” he said, when he registered what he’d done. He pulled back. “Sorry, sorry,” he repeated. She looked at him, evidently surprised. “I screwed up again--” he started to say, but she crawled into his lap and practically launched herself at him, beaming. 

“I missed you,” she murmured, between kisses. She was just as eager as he was, Brock realized. He was torn between being stunned and happy. He pulled her closer, sucking at her top lip. “Mmmm,” Darcy said. The sound was enough to make him groan. He tossed her present on the bed. He didn’t want anything between them, he thought, desperate to keep kissing her. He’d missed her so fucking much. He was helpless to--- 

“Guys,” Jane said, knocking at the door, “I’ve got popcorn!” The noise seemed to startle Darcy and he eased back, concerned. 

“You okay?” he said. Brock could feel his heart racing in his chest. Darcy turned her head towards the door.

“We’ll be right there,” she yelled back. 

“We gotta go out there, huh?” he said, achingly turned on. Darcy looked back at him, grinning. Her lipstick was smeared. 

“Yeah.” She leaned into nuzzle him, wiggling in a way that made him crazy. He needed to focus if he was going to make it through an entire fucking movie, he thought.

“If we gotta go, baby,” Brock said, trying to remind himself not to rush her. She nodded. 

“Jane’s kinda responsible for me knowing what an idiot I was being,” Darcy told him. “I should have listened to you.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he told her. “I’m an idiot.” He rubbed her back. Brock wanted to ask her things, but it felt like the wrong moment. He’d been wondering if there was a cheating boyfriend in her past.

“Nope,” Darcy said, kissing him lightly. “Not possible.” She sighed. “I used to really like popcorn,” she told him. 

“Yeah?”

“Now it seems like a letdown,” she said, raking her hands through his hair. He grinned.

“Thank you, baby,” he said. 

“What?” Darcy said, grinning back.

“I’ve seen you with popcorn,” he teased, feeling almost elated when she laughed at him. As she wiped the lipstick off his face with a tissue, he reached for her present. “Here, open this,” he told her. Darcy tore open the wrapping paper with a giggle. He’d bought her a necklace. 

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she said, beaming. She sounded genuinely thrilled.

“Thank fucking God, I was worried you’d think it was hideous,” he said. She looked at him incredulously.

“No, no, it’s stunning,” Darcy said. It looked antique; he hadn’t known if she would like it, but he’d felt like it was special enough that she wouldn’t have anything like it already. “Where did you get it?” she asked.

“I went to a mall,” he said, smirking slowly.

“You hate malls,” she said.

“Yes,” Brock said, kissing her again. 

* * *

“There you are,” Jane said gleefully, when they stepped out of Darcy’s bedroom. Darcy could feel herself blushing.

“Don’t you start,” Darcy said. Brock squeezed her hand and she smiled at him. He’d helped her put on her new necklace very carefully. It was a vintage-looking silver pendant. 

“What are we watching?” Brock asked.

“A film of the Rock,” Thor announced.

“He loves the Rock,” Jane said. Thor was smiling.

“Please, you love the Rock, don’t throw Thor under the bus.” Darcy looked at Brock. His mouth was still slightly stained with the faint traces of her red lipstick, no matter how much she’d wiped at his face. “I’m going to help Jane with the popcorn,” she said to him, ruffling his hair. “You want something to drink?”

“Just water,” he said, smiling at her.

“I love it,” she said, touching the necklace.

“Good,” Brock said. He held onto her hand until he hand to let go. It was very sweet. When Darcy got into the kitchen, Jane wiggled her eyebrows.

“Back together?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Darcy sighed happily. She got him water.

“Did you talk about things?” Jane asked quietly. 

“Um, sort of,” Darcy said. She scrunched her nose. They really hadn’t talked, she thought. There had been more making out than talking. “I apologized for not trusting him and he kissed me and gave me this.” She paused, feeling sheepish. “There was a lot of kissing?”

“Oh my God,” Jane said, starting to laugh loudly. “It’s gorgeous and you two are adorable!”

“I heard that,” Brock called from the living room.

“You have great taste,” Jane told him, when they walked back in. “Show Thor your necklace,” Jane said to Darcy. “He picked out really good jewelry,” she told Thor.

“Jane’s being very nice to me now,” Brock said jokingly.

“I’m nice to everyone, as long as they don’t fuck with my friends or my research,” Jane said smoothy, as Thor complimented Darcy.

“Technically accurate,” Darcy said.

“Uh-huh,” Brock said. “I got that.” Darcy looked at him and grinned. She spent the entire movie curled up next to Brock, feeling stupidly happy. He was so good, she thought, still in awe of how easily he’d forgiven her--and that he seemed to be able to be around her and Jane and Thor without being angry or resentful. Plenty of men would have resented her, Darcy thought. She glanced up at him. He smiled at her.

“Thank you for forgiving me,” she whispered during a scene with lots of explosions.

“Baby, it’s okay,” Brock whispered back, shaking his head. He kissed her forehead softly. “We just gotta talk,” he said, snuggling her closer. “Just talk to me.” Darcy rubbed his abs and sighed. 

“Okay,” she said happily. 

* * *

The movie had ended and Thor had taken Jane to bed when Brock sighed. “We should get you into bed, too,” he said.

“Do you have the gym?” Darcy asked carefully. She didn’t know how to ask him to stay without sex. She hadn’t worked out her birth control while they were broken up. 

“Yeah,” he said. He smiled at her. “But I’ll see you at work.” She walked him to the door a little sadly—-she was debating whether to say something when he looked at her. “Hey,” he said. “There’s a STRIKE birthday this weekend. You feel like going with me? I wanna introduce everybody to you.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, of course,” he said. He grinned. His smile was warm. That emboldened her.

“Don’t go,” Darcy said. “Sleep here?” He tilted his head.

“You want me to stay?”

“Yeah, if you want?” she told him. “My birth control isn’t worked out, but—”

“Don’t stress about that,” Brock said quickly. He rubbed her shoulders. “You really want me to stay?” 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. "I do."

Darcy changed into pajamas in the bathroom. Her heart was pounding as she walked across the hall and opened her bedroom door. “Hey,” Brock said. He was leaning against her pillows. 

“Hey,” Darcy said. 

“You okay?” he said.

“Yeah.” She wasn’t going to say anything about the state of her heart or the nervous sweating going on under her pajamas. 

“Good,” he said. He patted the bed. “C’mere.” He grinned at her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jewelry notes! Darcy's necklace is a reproduction camphor glass pendant from Silver Mine Gifts (they make a ton of really lovely, affordable filigree pieces from authentic period molds; they're sold under the brand name Trufili by other retailers). I love that even the 'paperclip' chain is more vintage-looking: https://www.silverminegifts.com/sterling-silver-sunray-camphor-glass-filigree-pendant-w-diamond?sort=p.price&order=ASC


	18. Anecdotally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I’m sorry I’m taking you away from the gym,” Darcy whispered, curled up against Brock. It was five am. He grinned, eyes half-closed. They’d been kissing for the last twenty minutes, ever since his phone alarm went off. He’d already vocalized a desire to skip his usual routine and stay in bed with her.

“No, you’re not,” he said. That made her laugh, a happy giggle that she smothered against his bicep.

“Nope,” she admitted.

“You’re just a bad influence,” he said dryly. She felt his arm go around her waist, shifting her closer. “I might need to report you to the authorities.”

“I thought you were an authority?” Darcy said mirthfully. 

“Not me, I’m just a victim here,” Brock insisted.

“It’s very difficult to restrain myself when you look like you,” Darcy said, nodding. She leaned forward and kissed him again, sucking at his top lip. He seemed perfectly calm, she thought. When she pulled back to study his face, he grinned.

“Blaming the victim is a classic villain move,” he snarked. 

“Bite me,” Darcy said, laughing. She swatted at him with one of her decorative pillows, a fluffy purple one. 

“This is assault,” he said, not flinching in the slightest. His smile widened as he closed his eyes. “I’m going to stay with you.”

“Forever?” Darcy joked.

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Might camp out here permanently, never leave.”

“Brock?” she said. He opened one eye at the change in her voice.

“Yeah?” he said.

“Roll on your back for me?” she asked, untying his sweatpants. He opened both eyes then, more alert.

“Sweetheart--” he began, before she put a finger over his lips.

“Shhh,” Darcy said. “Let me have a little fun?” He rolled over and smirked at her. They held eye contact for a long moment.

“You’re sure?” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy whispered. She’d been feeling like she wanted more since they started kissing. Her libido sometimes snuck up on her--when she felt real, genuine affection for someone--the desire to touch them, or be touched by them sometimes hit her in waves. It was unpredictable. But she’d spent the last twenty minutes sussing out her own feelings: she wanted to touch Brock Rumlow. She let her eyes--and then her hands--explore all over his body: those muscular arms, the firm plane of his stomach, the deep v-shaped muscles at his hips, every part of him she’d wanted to touch. Finally, Darcy dragged his sweatpants down slowly. “Oh,” she said, involuntarily. She bit her lip, then tried to say the words calmly, as if she did this all the time. “Condom, please?” 

“This is very good for my ego,” he said, seemingly as relaxed as she was nervous. Her hands trembled as he passed her the foil packet. Brock put his hands behind his head and grinned down at her.

“How are you so calm?” Darcy muttered, heart thudding in her chest, as she put on the condom. 

“You’re still dressed,” he joked. “I’ve seen me naked.” For some reason, that made her loose it. Darcy laughed so hard, so had to lie across him for a moment, shaking with laughter. She had her face pressed against his sternum, when he shifted. “Okay, this is getting to me a little,” he said in a low, warm voice. “Oh God, don’t grind up on me like that, sweetheart.”

“Pffhhht,” Darcy said, pressing her mouth against his chest. She sat up and unbuttoned her pajama top. “Better?” she asked, conscious of the nervous sweat on her belly.

“Fuck, yes,” Brock said, staring. He didn’t seem to have noticed. She kissed down his abs slowly, glancing up and smirking at him. Darcy circled her tongue around his belly button, then sucked at a tender spot. “Fuck,” he repeated, shifting his hips as she moved. “Ugh. Sorry, baby. That felt so good.”

“Just wait,” she said, moving down. He smelled saltier and muskier than she expected, firm in her mouth. She flicked her eyes to his face as she moved carefully. He was staring, expression intense. He groaned.

“This---this is not how I expected the morning to go,” Brock said. He shut his eyes tightly, breathing ragged. “Oh God, I’m so fucking happy.” Darcy raised her eyebrows at him as she let go for a moment and then flicked her tongue down the underside of his shaft. He moaned. “I--I love you,” he gasped out.

“Love you too, silly,” Darcy said. 

“Really?” he said, sounding delighted.

“Would I be doing this if I didn’t?” she said, then sat back on her hips, thinking. “Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Brock said, frowning at he craned his chin down. He looked confused.

“Condoms are pretty good against pregnancy prevention, right?” Darcy said, reaching for the tie on her pajama bottoms. “I mean, not as good as the pill, but I feel like risking it.”

“Seriously?” Brock said, expression dazed.

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said, sitting sideways and half-wiggling out of her pants. The got a little stuck on her thighs. “Clothes are never this difficult to get out of when nobody’s watching.”

“Lemme--” Brock began, sitting up with startling fluidity. Darcy grinned.

“That was quick,” she said, when he got his hands around her pajamas and tugged, so they slid down her legs. She leaned forward and kissed him. He pulled her into his lap, sucking at her neck and rubbing her nipples. The position was tantalizing. Darcy had never felt so good--his mouth was warm against hers and she was riding one of his thighs, grinding her weight against his knee for friction. She was wet, she realized. She guided one of his hands down between her legs. “Touch me,” Darcy begged. He fingered her eagerly and she moaned, rocking. She felt like she could come at any second, but the intensity of her orgasm startled her. Darcy jerked around his fingers, her movements going still as waves of pleasure hit her body.

“Fuck,” Brock groaned, palming at her breasts eagerly with his other hand. “Baby.” He kissed her again. “Baby.” He was still hard, she realized. She felt dazed.

“My pants are still stuck,” she said, pulling back long enough to halt the onslaught of kisses between his words. The pajamas were wedged around her ankles. He started to laugh, then yanked them over her feet. “I don’t,” Darcy whispered, “I don’t want to be underneath you.“ He nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.” There was a general fumble, punctuated by kisses and excited laughter, before he got her on top of him and they started to move. “Oh,” Darcy said, hanging onto his biceps as he jolted her body. It felt incredible--and a little dizzying, being with someone this strong and sexy. She clung to him and dared to look him in the eyes. He was staring at her intently. He grinned.

“You okay?” he said. 

“This is new,” she said, stuttering a little. He leaned up so their lips brushed lightly. “Oh God,” Darcy moaned, as he moved. It was over too soon. She’d never come apart so fast in her life, shaking and holding onto him. She didn’t usually come during sex, much less twice. It was almost embarrassing. She buried her face against his shoulder, trying to quell her rapid breathing. “I’m okay,” she whispered, blushing.

“You don’t sound okay, sweetheart,” Brock said.

“I’m not okay,” Darcy got out, grinning as she made eye contact with him. “I’m wrecked.” He looked smug. 

“Yeah?” he said, evidently pleased. They were staring at each other when his alarm started to go off again. “Shit,” Brock said.

“You have to go,” Darcy said, pulling a face. They untangled their limbs slowly. He kept kissing her, making obnoxious smacking noises and teasing her about all the pretty parts of her body.

“This,” Brock said, hand under her knee, “is a real cute kneecap.”

“Stop,” Darcy said, still lying down. She grinned at him. “I had fun. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun the first time I had sex with somebody.”

“Yeah?” he said, expression almost bashful. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh--I mean--”

“We’re still going to have things to work through, because I’m weird,” Darcy said, sighing.

“No,” he said sharply. When she half sat up in confusion, he leaned down and kissed her kneecap. “You’re not weird,” Brock said tenderly. 

“No?” Darcy asked.

“Not in any way that bothers me,” he said, voice more teasing. “I think it’s kinda cute.”

* * *

  
  


“What are you doing?” Jane said, as Darcy wrote in her notebook and slurped coffee. 

“Journaling my post-sex feelings,” Darcy said. Jane looked surprised. “What? You asked!” 

“Not this early in the morning,” Jane said, going for a coffee mug. “Brock spent the night?”

“Nope, I picked up a Ukrainian circus act. Three acrobats and a lion tamer,” Darcy joked. Jane spilled her coffee--then started to giggle so hard she had to lean against the kitchen cabinet to catch her breath.

“You sarcastic little bitch,” Jane got out. “Ow. My stomach hurts now.”

“Sorry,” Darcy said. She took a swig of her coffee. “I had a positive oral sex experience, that was new. Giving not receiving--” she was saying, as Jane spit out some coffee. “I didn’t do that, though.”

“What has gotten into--wait, no, I don’t mean that!” Jane said. She sat at the table. There was a pause. “Since when do you sex journal?” she wondered.

“It’s not about sex, it’s about my feelings about sex,” Darcy said. “I read about it online. A safe space to think about whether I want to do stuff again, how comfortable I felt, any feelings of resistance, stuff like that.”

“Oh,” Jane said. She set down her coffee cup. “That’s actually neat.” She frowned. “Why can’t I do that?” 

“You totally can, Janeybug,” Darcy said. “For the record, tiny pops of anxiety, yes, but resistance, no.”

“Cool,” Jane said.

“Also, he said I love you,” Darcy said. 

“Yeah,” Jane said. 

“What do you mean, yeah?” she asked.

“I knew he was in love with you when he looked so miserable when we dug him out of that bar,” Jane said.

“You did not!” Darcy said.

“It was totally obvious,” Jane said.

“Okay, sure.” Darcy sipped her coffee. “Do you think it’s enough, though? To get over our differences?”

“Only you know that,” Jane said, sounding very woo-woo mystical all of a sudden.

“Pffht, thanks Janey Lama,” Darcy cracked.

“What do other people do?” Jane said. 

“Are you talking about data?” Darcy asked, setting down her mug with a thunk. 

“Anecdotally, yeah,” Jane said. They looked at each other. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Darcy asked.

“Research?” Jane said, alert. Darcy nodded.

“Research,” she said.

That afternoon in the lab, Darcy sighed. “I’m not opening up the relationship,” she declared. A lot of articles seemed to recommend that, but the idea of sharing Brock with someone else? It sent Darcy into an anxiety spiral. Jane nodded, looking serious.

“What do you like to do?” Jane asked.

“What do _I_ like to do?” Darcy wondered. “I like spending time with him--and touching him.” She sighed. “You know the part of sex that really makes me freak out?”

“Yeah?” Jane said. Darcy could tell she was trying to be neutral, yet encouraging.

“It’s when someone’s on top of me and I’m just lying there,” Darcy said. “That pinned down feeling kinda freaks me out. That’s when my brain just goes _ughhh.”_

“It sounds like you need to be more in control of the experience,” Jane said.

“Hmmm,” Darcy said, thinking. 

“And add more things you like?” Jane suggested. 

* * *

“What are you doing?” Brock asked, when Darcy tied the scarf over his eyes. He was already sitting in the chair she’d brought into the bedroom. She’d looped a scarf around his wrists and tied his arms to the chair back.

“Having fun,” she told him, raking her fingers through his hair and yanking a little. He moaned. She leaned close to his ear. “Don’t you like fun?”

“Yeah,” he stuttered. “Oh fuck.” She playfully kissed the outside of his ear. He huffed, turning towards her eagerly. She dodged him, tsk-tsking.

“Nuh-uh,” Darcy said. “Someone’s breaking the rules. You know the rules.” She timed everything in the journal. It was part of her schedule. When she and Jane had decided to do research, Darcy had thought she would discover some special demisexual coping method to keep his interest during sex that bored her. She’d started a journal specifically for sex feelings. But it had turned out that she didn't even need to be bored. He'd vetoed any sex position that freaked her out. And all she needed to do was entertain Brock with some relatively vanilla stuff. Most of it wasn’t even all that sexual: she hugged and kissed him constantly, sent him flirty text messages at work, and went to online to order off-season Halloween stuff for the naughty outfits at half-price. She and Jane had really laughed at that. Darcy was waiting on her first costume to arrive by mail. But it was working surprisingly well. He loved attention--any attention. Darcy had figured out that it was the ‘sweaty and on top of me’ phase of sex that was the most awkward for her, not the pregame, jokey stuff. Darcy was into that; it was like playing pranks. She was perfectly fine sending him selfies of the girls in low-cut tops as she and Jane yawned through the afternoon slump. She’d done that today. “You’re not even behaving for thirty seconds?” Darcy said, tugging his hair a little more and evading the kiss he was blindly aiming in her direction.

“Baby, you’re killing me,” he said, visibly pouting.

“We just got started,” she scolded. “Bad Brock, no.”

“You been killing me all day,” he said. 

“Have I?” Darcy said, playing dumb. He didn’t know that she had a basic set of activities mapped out, so she could adjust for variety and her energy level. She wasn't feeling especially energetic today, so she'd done the least effortful thing.

“That goddamned lollipop during the staff meeting,” he muttered.

“Hmm?” Darcy said, surprised.

“I couldn’t fucking focus,” he said.

“Dave from the Archives was giving out Tootsie Roll pops,” Darcy said, a stray giggle escaping. She’d totally forgotten about that--it hadn’t even been purposeful.

“Was he hitting on you?” Brock said.

“Me, Jane, all of legal, babe,” Darcy said, raking her fingers through his hair with a laugh.

“You’re fucking with me,” he said. She could tell he was smiling.

“Me? I would never,” Darcy said.


	19. Future Projects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Come meet the guys on STRIKE Foxtrot,” Brock told her, dragging Darcy around the birthday party. Darcy felt slightly embarrassed--embarrassed but happy. He’d been introducing her to everyone all night, like she was being presented. 

“Hi,” Darcy said, feeling oddly shy. The whole thing was strangely formal. Brock was naming people when somebody bumped into him, slung an arm around his shoulder, and kissed his cheek with a loud smack. The guy in question had a military haircut, a tattoo sleeve, and a frankly goofy expression. 

“Wassup!” he yelled.

“Hey, hey, motherfucker,” Brock said, sighing. “I’m in the middle of something here.” The other man howled with laughter. Darcy thought he looked smashed, but probably fun. He had that look about him, like he was the craziest guy in any group. 

“You crashed his moment, Sanchez,” the lead Foxtrot guy, Phelps, said. “This is his new girlfriend, Darcy.”

“Hello,” Sanchez said grandly. “S’nice to meet you.”

“You’re Sanchez?” Darcy said, stunned. Brock’s head swivelled in alarm. 

“That’s me,” Sanchez said, tapping his chest and swaying slightly. “Best-looking guy in a two mile radius.” He grinned and raised his beer. 

“Yeah, right, asshole,” Phelps said. 

“Your mama said so,” Sanchez slurred. “Said I reminded her of Magic Mike--”

“This is Sanchez?” Darcy whispered to Brock. He burst out laughing, detached himself from Sanchez’s arm, and steered Darcy away from the ensuing round of trash talk, swearing, and the circle of guys going _ohhh_ every time Phelps and Sanchez one-upped each other.

“You’re just leaving us?” Sanchez yelled.

“Oh my God,” Darcy said. “He’s a drunk frat boy.” Brock wrapped his arm around her.

“Yeah,” he said. “What were you imagining, anyway?”

“Someone, um, more threatening to the relationship?” Darcy admitted. That only made Brock laugh harder. When he’d gotten control of himself, he pulled her closer to him and whispered in her ear.

“You are wonderful and I’m so fucking happy we’re together--,” he began.

“Oh, awwww,” Darcy said.

“--but we really need to work on your self-esteem, sweetheart,” Brock finished. 

“Shit,” Darcy said.

“Am I wrong?” he said.

“Noooooo,” she admitted. “I could be a little more, uh, sturdy. Emotionally. Or whatever you want to call it.” He nodded, nuzzling her.

“This is gonna be my new project,” Brock said. 

“How?” she asked, grinning in spite of herself.

“I’m gonna Google,” he said. 

“Okay,” she said, tucking her head under his chin. “Sounds good.”

“And Jane’ll help me, she’s good at science,” he added. They were swaying back and forth.

“We’re approaching this scientifically?” Darcy said.

“Yeah. Like your sex journal,” he said.

“Shhh!” Darcy said, giggling. “People will think I’m wild and crazy.”

“Aren’t you?” he teased. 

-The End-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I had great fun with this prompt and fic! Thank you for all your comments and kudos!


End file.
